


Between The Grave and a Hard Place

by niichts



Series: The Misadventures of Jamison Junkenstein [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Frankenstein parody, Halloween, Halloween AU, Jamison Junkenstein - Freeform, Junkenstein's Monster - Freeform, Junkenstein's Revenge, Meihem - Freeform, Overwatch Halloween event, Romance (Sort Of), Series, Violence, alternative universe, awkward Junkrat being awkward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niichts/pseuds/niichts
Summary: Doctor Jamison Junkenstein has quite honestly had enough with it all, and has now reached the conclusion that it's high time he creates his greatest masterpiece yet - life. The only downside is, no-one's really done this sort of thing before, and you can't exactly pick up a textbook on the matter. Looks like everything will have to be taken into his own hands. And that never ends well.(Overwatch Halloween AU)





	1. A Casual Day for the Doctor

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of work on this website, so kudos and comments will be great motivation for me to continue. You may notice some other Overwatch characters not originally included in the event will pop up as background characters, (hence character death in later chapters) but that's just me wanting to keep things fresh. Without further ado, let's see what our favorite deranged Australian scientist is up to today.

_“Behold the triumph of my latest creations!”_

Lord Reinhardt couldn’t look less impressed if he’d tried. Not that Dr Jamison Junkenstein wasn’t used to this by now. Hell, whenever he was around, it seemed to be the Lord’s default setting. But after an introduction like that, it was just the _tiniest_ bit awkward when a resonating silence was all the response he received in return.

“I said, _behold the triumph of my latest –“_

“I heard you the first time, Doctor Junkenstein. And unfortunately, not for the last. What, pray tell, are these metal monstrosities you’ve brought before me? I wasn’t aware I had need for extra scrap metal.”

One of the guards by the chamber doors sniggered audibly. Junkenstein took a deep breath and carried on.

“Essentially, my lord, these are what I like to call _zomnics!_ An automated security force here to serve your every whim and demand! No need for pay! No need for sleep! No need for anything! Get rid of the guards and replace ‘em with these, because you’re looking at utter protection for the rest of your life!”

 _Which will be five more minutes if you don’t stop insulting my genius like this,_ he thought to himself, but of course he dared not say it.

Reinhardt raised the eyebrow that was situated over his one unseeing eye.

“And put my loyal workers out of a job? If anyone should be removed from under my servitude, Doctor, it is you. Time and time again I’ve granted you utter freedom to create whatever you wanted and gave you limitless trinkets and resources to fuel all your paraphernalia.”

 _Only after the rest of the townsfolk didn’t want them anymore,_ Junkenstein’s mind retorted, but again he dared not utter it out loud.

“But time and time again all I get in return are these useless slaves and zombies. Not exactly a good representation of our little town of Adlesbrun, is it?”

“ _Lord Reinhardt,_ my welcoming robots did a great job waving at newcomers and guiding travellers around town last summer season!”

“Until one of them overheated and set on fire, burning several houses down and killing twelve people.”

Junkenstein opened his mouth, but Reinhardt lifted a hand to silence him again.

“I’m giving you once last chance, Doctor. One last chance to make something no-one in this town will ever forget. Something that will absolutely amaze me and make me actually _want_ to set eyes on it. Much unlike these soulless automatons I’m currently having the utter displeasure of witnessing. Now go.”

“But, sir, I-I-bu-wha-“

“ _Go_. _Now.”_

_Damn it all!_ Junkenstein internally screamed, storming through the village square to get back to his lab. _Damn the lord, damn his guards, damn the zomnics and damn this entire bloody town!_

What in the blue blazes was the guy expecting? His creations were perfect! Flawless, every time! Yet all they ever turned out to be were multiple new failures on a steadily growing list. And now he was facing the ultimate fall.

What could be considered impressive? A new type of medicine? No, because then the people, who were already considerably wary of him, would use it as a solid excuse to burn him as a witch. Transplanting cattle organs into a human? No, he’d done that already with a drunken police sergeant. Man, had it been a rough session when he had to explain to the guy a year later that he _may or may not_ have caught mad cow disease.

Junkenstein was so deep in thought he promptly bumped into a random villager, who was unloading hay bales off his cart. A small, dwarfish fellow with a fiery red beard and a glare of pure flame to match. Despite being three feet taller than this human obstacle, Junkenstein still fell to the ground - he never was particularly strong in the physical department.

“’Scuse me.” Junkenstein unconsciously said, before making to stand up again. His attempt was all for nothing, however, as the dwarfish man shoved him back down with a thick gloved hand and raised his hammer threateningly.

“Where do you think you’re going, Junker?”

 _Junker._ The insult rang a bell. Practically every villager had their own separate name for Junkenstein, none of which were particularly nice, but it made it a lot easier for Junkenstein to identify them that way. It certainly beat reading the birth certificates for people who hated him and he therefore hated in return.

Ah, that was it. It was Torbjorn Lindholm, Reinhardt’s personal blacksmith. The Swedish one with the Napoleon Complex. Junkenstein, in all his selfless honesty, had pointed out his mental instability on their very first meeting (after another failed attempt to please his Lordship, surprise surprise) – it didn’t exactly end very well. The bruises from the hammer had only just faded last week. 

“Oh, just wandering home” Junkenstein managed nonchalantly. He noticed everyone who was in the square had turned to see what was going on. For such a small person, the stumpy little bugger sure had a loud voice.

“Been to see Lord Reinhardt again, I see. So what happened, Junker? Did you cry with happiness at finally pleasing him, or was it just the same old story?”

Everyone was listening in now. Some were even smiling, knowing the entertainment that was most likely about to come up next: a fun session Junkenstein-beating.

“Same old story” Junkenstein choked out, trying to shrug the hand off his shoulder. It remained firm. “Listen, can I go home? I’ve got dinner to prepare and the dog needs feedi-“

The hand squeezed hand. Junkenstein clenched his teeth.

“You don’t have a dog, Junker. You don’t have a single companion except for those…whatever the hell they are” Torbjorn chuckled ominously, nodding towards the few zomnics behind them who’d been walking with Junkenstein. Maybe they _were_ inefficient guards…after all, a single one of them was yet to left a finger and actually save their creator. “All you’ve got is that landlady of yours, and hell, I bet even _she_ can’t stand the sight of you. You want to actually fit in with this town? _Get a damn shower,_ for starters.”

“Yeah, it’s a real shame, because I really go out of my way to fit in with folks like you, Lindholm…” Junkenstein muttered. Then he immediately regretted it.

“You hear that folks?” Torbjorn hollered at no-one in particular, making sure that even the rats in the sewers below could probably hear. He was a ringleader in his own imaginary circus. It would have made Junkenstein laugh had he not feared for his life. “He doesn’t want to fit in with us! _He hates us all!_ ”

“That’s not what I-“ Junkenstein tried, but the hand instantly went from shoulder to neck.

The square, which had apparently been silent for the past few seconds, suddenly roared into life. Junkenstein had originally thought there was only a handful of people nearby, but it seemed the entire village population was an insult-radar and had surrounded the two of them.

“He’s from the other side of the world, what does he know about us?!” shouted a young British girl, who was selling fruit in a stall opposite Torbjorn’s cart.

“Pathetic little man” was the only comment a French woman with long hair uttered, staring at him like a trough full of cow turds.

“One-legged freak!” shouted a girl in a giant suit of armour at least ten sizes too big for her. Where the hell had she come from?

“Exactly, Miss Song. Honour comes from gaining allies through fear or respect. And this man, this _weakling_ , is neither feared nor respected” added a Japanese fellow, who’d just walked in covered with bear fur and two wild-looking dogs. A tattoo visible on his left ab was slightly covered by a sleek, well-polished bow. Great. A hunter. Just what Junkenstein needed pummelling him into the ground along with everything else.

“Indeed” Torbjorn spat, dragging Junkenstein’s attention back to him. “Neither feared not respected. So stop acting like you’re so special, because you’re not. Either make an invention to benefit the town, or get the hell out of it. You’re a blot on our clean page, Doc. Cutting people open and doing God knows what to them, it’s-it’s-it’s just sick! If you come back out of the Lord’s palace next time with anything less than amazing, or so help us, or we’ll kick your disgusting little behind back to whichever mud hole you came from! Clear?”

“Crystal” Junkenstein choked, unable to say anything else due to the crushing sensation of his windpipe. The hand was released.

“Great, now I’ll just head off and-“ he scrambled to get up a second time, massaging his throat and hoping to make a break for it. But his leg was grabbed instead and he fell flat on his face, hearing his nose break with  sickening _crack._

He looked up through a thick nosebleed to see Torbjorn with a grin on his face that made Junkenstein’s heart sink through a chasm. “Not yet, Junker. Not until the message _sinks in_.”

He turned to the rest of the square; everyone was in an unusual physical stance, like savage baby animals getting ready to attack prey for the first time. You could practically feel the anticipation in the air, all of it weighing down on Junkenstein’s soul and forcing it down his chest.

“Which one shall I break first folks, the face or the arm?” 


	2. The Landlady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei-ling Zhou, after having decided she had no special need for most of her family manor, rents it out to a certain Doctor. It seems not everyone finds him as happy and gentlemanly as she does, however...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to capture the compassionate side of Mei's personality in this, and decided to leave out the whole original "he's a bully" opinion she has of Junkrat. The main reason being that she's not the main focus of the story and more of a secondary character. So, Overwatch shippers, here's this story's ship - a good bit of (eventual) Meihem.

Zhou Manor, situated like a large, ugly blot on the rolling pastures, was like something cut from a cheap horror thriller during bad weather. Thunder lashed against the blackened walls and lifeless flowerpots hanging from the rotten doorframes; a sadly common occurrence despite the landlady’s constant attempts to paint, decorate and overall rejuvenate the place to its former glory.

Mei-Ling, or Mei for short, had inherited the place from her parents after their death and it was only out of respect for them that she hadn’t already sold it. She’d originally been incredibly disappointed with the property and somewhat snobby too – the place was already falling apart when she was a child and she had no desire to do anything with it except hand it off to whoever handed her the largest amount of money.

Then _the incident_ happened.

A rather nasty tumble down the flight of stairs in the middle of the night led to Mei being in a coma for almost six years. Of course, she was indeed shocked to learn of the technological advancements that had occurred when she finally awoke in a back alley with the scariest looking “doctor” she’d ever seen (just what on earth was this _electricity_ that everyone was ranting on about?) and promptly returned to her house to see whether nature had been kind.

It most certainly had not. By now it was ramshackle to the point of diplidation. She had no company. No money. Almost no home. Tears welled in her eyes for a few seconds, before they were replaced with determination. For she was Mei-Ling Zhou,  and she never let anyone see that she had any form of weakness.

The first thing she did was buy a cat. In retrospect, this was a rather ridiculous notion in comparison to buying food and other essentials, but it was almost like a permanent good-luck charm. It was white, it was fluffy, and it somehow remained untouched by the rubbish covering Adlesbrun’s streets. The only name to go with an animal of such stature, cleanliness and fur quantity would of course be Snowball.

Secondly, she used the last of her inheritance money repairing a single bedroom and the kitchen. It was nowhere near perfect, but enough to get by in life since there was only really her – _but_ , she thought a few nights later, when cooking kippers for her and the cat, _what if it wasn’t_? Couldn’t she rent out the rooms to someone with money rather than watch them go to waste? She really ought to help folk after all; she knew what it was like to be lost and powerless.

In the end she stuck up a single scroll of paper on the wall of Lord Reinhardt’s castle, with the simple words:

 

**_ LODGER WANTED _ **

_ADLESBRUN COTTAGE_

_TWELVE MILES OUTSIDE OF CITY LIMITS_

_TWENTY SHILLINGS A WEEK RENT REQUIRED_

**_LODGER WILL HAVE TO PAY FOR ROOM DECORATIONS / REPAIRS_ **

****

For the first two weeks, absolutely nothing changed. Maybe the guards had torn it down. But then again, that Lord Reinhardt fellow seemed such a jolly and well-mannered person to her. Surely he’d allow a simple advertisement? It was barely vandalism.

Two more weeks passed. Maybe there weren’t many travellers around, she thought.

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks.

Another two more weeks.

Eventually, eight weeks after having put up the scroll, Mei was interrupted in her thoughts of possibly demolishing the unused segments of the house by a knock on the door that sounded more like a thunder clap. She’d almost completely forgotten about her little appeal by that point, but immediately knew it couldn’t be anyone other than a potential customer – after all, no-one else had come to visit her in all these years.  

When she opened the door she nearly had a heart attack. And the fact that it was the exact same man she’d woken up to in that back alley over a year ago was the _least_ frightening realisation. The lazy orange glint of the evening sky vaguely lit up the fields around him as the darker clouds of the night were starting to roll in. His hair was a startlingly bright white, and a pair of piercing blue goggles clashed with it in a way she never thought possible. The right arm and leg was missing, replaced with metallic stand-ins that appeared to have been crudely designed from scrap metal and he wore a lab coat that, judging by the numerous stains and marks on it, probably hadn’t been washed or changed in a good decade or so. But the thing that chilled her to the core the most was that damn smile. A smile so wide and so sinister he looked like he was trying to eat his own face.

“H-hello” she stuttered, forcing what she hoped was a kind smile. “I assume you’re here to rent out the spare rooms?”

“Sure thing, darl!” grinned the man. “Oh, and before I forget, this should cover the coming year…”

He tossed her a big sack that jingled as she caught it. No doubt it was full of coins.

“Are you sure you don’t want to check the property first?”

“Nah, this is the only place I could find. The rest of the town ain’ too…ah… _happy_ about having me around, so…”

Mei felt a slight twinge of pity. She could relate to that, what with having been out of loop for so long a time. The town looked at anything that defied its usual status quo with at the very least mild apprehension and at the very worst bland hostility. What with being descended from people who lived in a separate continent, Mei was always regarded with wariness despite how she tried her best not to annoy or upset the other villagers. If she was distrusted by all the other villagers despite her attempts, she imagined it would be just as hard for this man at her door, what with seemingly being half-human and half-machine. She looked again at his grubby attire and felt vaguely sorry for him.

“Yes, of course. Here, let me show you to your part of the place…”she said, holding out her hand as a welcome into the manor.

 “No need darl, I’m sure I’ll be able to find it myself.” Without another word, he picked up a light suitcase (the only luggage he seemed to have whatsoever, Mei noticed) and wandered off into the disused depths of the home.

“Oh, and I almost forgot” he shouted behind his back, “The name’s Jamison Junkenstein, darl. Glad to meet ya.”

 *

Mei had expected complaints at the state of the unused rooms over the coming few days, but to her utter surprise, she received absolutely none; not so much as a snarky comment on the side. This raised the question as to whether Junkenstein was just being nice or really did consider it acceptable accommodation against whatever he was previously used to. Still, besides the occasional banging or clattering (“Just science-y stuff” he’d informed her when she’d inquired), he was perfectly well-mannered and happy whenever he passed by her in the hallway or on the stairs.

It appeared that her opinion of him wasn’t exactly shared by other townsfolk, however.

She’d gone to buy fruit and vegetables from the village fruit stand a few months after he’d moved in, run by a chirpy young girl named Lena. Mei liked her. She was one of the few who treated her without suspicion and always seemed cheerful whatever the situation.

“I see you took down that scroll on the palace wall there, Mei. Did you get a lodger?”

Mei rolled her eyes, but not in too harsh a manner.

“Of course Lena, I highly doubt I’d take it down if I didn’t.”

“Hope he’s been paying his rent. I’d hate for you to have some kind of crisis on your hands after everything you’ve been through.”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but he’s actually given me enough to cover the entire year ahead. How does a guy even earn that much?”

“Some rich bloke, perhaps?” she giggled to herself with a sudden mischievous grin. “Looking for a gal to get together with and ride off into the sunset, perhaps?”

Mei nearly dropped the apple she was inspecting and flushed red.

“Oh no” she said hastily, stuttering “No no no, definitely not. At least I hope not. He tries anything on me and he’ll be out the front door!”

Lena laughed.

“Good on ya, luv. Always sticking up for yourself, that’s the Mei I’m used to!”

“I highly doubt that’ll ever be the case, you know” Mei responded, hoping to close the subject as quickly as possible. She was about to be sadly disappointed. “He isn’t exactly the overly-confident type; always shut up in those spare rooms. Too interested in his science, I suppose.”

Lena’s laugh faltered for a split second, but it was long enough for Mei to notice.

“Mei – luv – what’s this fella’s name again?”

“Oh yes, sorry, I didn’t tell you. Well, he told me his name was Junkenstein. Dr Jamison Junkenstein.”

She smiled at Lena, but stopped when she saw the look on her face. One of worry and concern, but also one of uncharacteristic anger.

“Mei…luv…do you know what that guy’s like? He’s absolutely sick. He’s just a _freak_. Nobody likes having him around; it’s why he’s probably living on the outskirts with you. He’s got this creepy grin and it just… _urgh_. And that money? Bet you anything it was stolen.”

Mei was shocked.

“Well, he’s been nothing but a complete gentleman to me so far. Sure, he could do with a wash every once in a while, but I imagine what he gets up to is pretty grubby…”

She thought long and hard, trying to find something, _anything_ she could say to defend her lodger, but in all honesty she simply couldn’t. If he wasn’t cooped up in his room, he’d disappear off to Lord Reinhardt’s castle for most of the day and return looking sulky.

“Tell me Lena, what does he actually do around here?”

Lena snorted; the conversation was clearly not being steered in a direction she wanted.

“He builds things for the Lord, but, thank God, none of them are ever approved. There was one year he built miniature barrels with…what did he call them, again?... _cameras_ attached to them as a security system and it took me an entire month to realise there was one in my bedroom sitting right next to my dresser. Disgusting creep. We gave him a right beating for that.”

“ _Beating_?” inquired Mei, horrified.

“Oh, we sometimes do it once or twice, depending on what he does. Originally it was whenever his inventions damaged or cost the town, but now we do it whenever we can tell he’s just up to no good. The young girl Song…see her over there, chatting with the blacksmith? She caught him searching the back of her father’s wagon yesterday, most likely searching for something to melt down and keep. He said he thought it was a litter collector, but we knew.”

“How could you tell?”

“We just _knew_. Why are you so interested in learning more about that weirdo, anyway? Aren’t you buying anything?”

Her tone was so conversational it was unsettling. People did this to Junkenstein _regularly_? Looking back, she could pinpoint certain days when he’d return with a scratched eye or chipped tooth and just say “I tripped” or “I fell” or “machine blew up in my face” before hastily changing the subject. The poor guy. Mei simply thought he had his heart in the right place, but just went about things the incorrect way. And this is the response he got. Sure, he may have done a few questionable things, but what human in history hadn’t?

“Listen Mei, he’s a weirdo. He’s just bad news. Kick him out the minute you get back, alright, luv?”

“Yeah…yes, okay, Lena, thanks…I’ll, uh…I’ll be going, then.”

“No problem, luv.”

And despite needing quite a few other odd bits and pieces that needed buying there, she walked home as fast as she could without breaking into a panicked and undignified walk.

 *

When Mei needed to mull things over, she often made a cup of scented tea and drank it while giving Snowball a stroke. Asian herbs were of course rare in the remote countryside, so she rationed what she could and kept it down to just one cup a week. What she’d just had to process an hour ago, however, required at the very least two.

Everyone thought Junkenstein was a freak. She didn’t.

Everyone considered him weird, creepy and a downright awful person. She didn’t.

What was she to do?

A knock at the door dragged her out of her thoughts. It was faint, almost a tap in fact, but it was enough to realise she was being called for and she got up. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind whatsoever that it was the “weirdo” himself.

_I’ll just ask him everything,”_ she decided, putting on a firm face. _“I’ll just act as intimidating as possible and leave him when he explains his side of the story.”_

She was determined to be as fair as possible, thus mentally preparing herself to talk to him. After she made sure whatever “accidental” injury he’d obtained was cleaned up nicely.

She half-expected to see him with another blackened eye.

She half-expected to see him with another broken nose.

What she didn’t expect to see, on the other hand, was a combination of _both_ with a torso area that looked like it had been dragged backwards through a meat grinder.


	3. Wiping Up The Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkenstein had initially decided he'd never fess up as to why he even continued to hang around Adlesbrun, but somehow this Zhou woman really has a knack for forcing uncomfortable truths. She's cleverer than she looks, for a landlady.

“So…” Mei murmured, rubbing her eyes under her glasses, “let’s go over this one more time. You bumped into the Lord’s blacksmith and then what?”

Both she and Junkenstein were sat in her main room, made up of a single pale blue sofa, a carpet and a roaring fireplace. The usual rain had started, light drops tapping against the windows as Snowball lay by the flames and purred contently.

Junkenstein, for his part, looked far from content.

“He got all angry at me for no particular reason” he responded rather sullenly. A recently obtained split lip rendered all his speech slurred. “Or at least for no reason I care about. Then shit got flipped and he rallied the entire damn square against me. Again, for no reason that warrants any care. Then…I, uh…apparently the message needed to _sink in_ or whatever. So everyone beat me up. Like, literally, everyone.”

Mei lifted his lab coat off him and found a massive bleeding pattern of three horizontal lines stretched across his back and soaking through his shirt.

“Are these… _are these claw marks?”_ she asked, using up all her resolve not to break into a terrified shriek. She managed, but only just.

Junkenstein incoherently mumbled something. He was fairly certain that the hunter fellow had set his goddamn dogs on him at some point, but what with everyone making sure to get a punch in, it had all become blurred in a flurry of pain.

_There’s the evidence, then._ He managed a grim smile to himself. Mei was simply too traumatised to even notice.

“Well, let’s uh…let’s just get you patched up and you can go do whatever you want…” Mei managed in reply. It was only then that she realised he’d been completely straightforward and hadn’t bothered to try and cover up his injuries up again. So he obviously didn’t consider her _that_ stupid.

Another look at him pushed her mind-set back to the present. Dear God, even the _injuries_ seemed to have injuries.

She lightly pinched the hem of his shirt and lifted it slightly. His entire body tensed up and she froze in turn.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I just need to take this off to clean up the back injuries…are you alright with that?”

A low giggle escaped his lips. It was rather feeble, but much too disconcerting for her tastes.

_He’s a weirdo,_ her memory reminded her. _Remember what Lena said?_

_Shut up,_ she told it in return.

“Sure thing, darl. You’re the landlady ‘round here, I’m sure you won’t be wantin’ me bleedin’ all over the place.”

“How very kind of you” she responded in a dry but humorous voice, trying to cheer him up a little. She’d by this point gone behind the stool he was sat on, but his body relaxed again and she took it as a sign this had worked.

She lifted it up and over his head while it was still mostly fastened (that being by the buttons that hadn’t been crudely torn off) and digested the image of his physical torso area for a few seconds.

His skin had a sickly pale green tinge, which became whiter and whiter as it approached the neck. His ribs…Jesus, it looked like he hadn’t eaten in _days_ …she could count every single one of them, along with all the bumps in his spinal column. There was a purple line were his arm had been cut off of course…obviously, he wasn’t as talented in the surgical field as he was in the…well, whatever field he mostly worked in.

She picked up a sponge and lightly dabbed the claw marks. Now was a better time than ever to bring up her sneaking worries, as she’d likely rarely see him again later on.

“I went into town yesterday” she began, continuing to rub, “and I was speaking with Lena. You know, the girl who runs the fruit stand?”

Junkenstein was silent for a few seconds. When his response finally came, it sounded like the word was causing him some form of intense physical pain. Was she pressing too hard with the sponge?

“Did ya now?”

“She…how should I put this…didn’t have anything very nice to say about you.”

“Yeah, big surprise.”

“And apparently, neither does anyone else.”

Junkenstein’s reply was delayed by an even longer amount of time than before. It was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off.

“Well, darl, let me just say this before ya go jumpin’ to conclusions: I’ve been trying to impress _his Lordship_ and every other sorry loser in this town by furthering the art of science. Nothin’ more.”

“And what was with that whole episode involving the…uh…the _barrels_ , I think Lena said?” Mei felt a certain degree of satisfaction in having dared pose the question.

“Hey, I never knew she stored barrels in her damn bedroom!” Junkenstein fired up; his sudden movements making Mei snatch her hands off his back. “I ain’t that sick! I just build shit to make this place better!”

“I thought everyone hated you” Mei retorted, still curious but somewhat offended by the way he’d gotten so violent in such a split second “and you hate them right back. Why, _doctor,_ would you be trying to work for their personal benefit?”

That was a low blow. Junkenstein gaped and mouthed wordlessly, finally managing to stutter out an indignant response.

“It’s a day job, alright? Remember? I work for his _Lordship_ on high?”

“Well no-one seems to think you’re doing that good a job!”

“Well screw those people! What the hell makes you think I care? They’re all a bunch of mindless turds who wouldn’t recognise genius if it danced under their noses stark naked!”

Before she knew it, Mei was raising her voice too.

“Then why stay? Just go somewhere else, for God’s sake!”

“ _’Cos this is all I’ve fucking got_!”

The confession was out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it. He smacked his hands, both real and fake, over his loose gob, but the damage had been done. Mei looked like something had stung her.

“Junkenstein – I –“

“ _It’s all I’ve got_ , alright, darl? This place…I like it. Don’t think the idea of packing and leaving ain’t ever crossed my mind before, half the time it’s all that does. But my dad, bless his damn soul, would be so damn disappointed if I just quit, ‘specially since the family’s been sucking his Lordship’s cock for the past five generations.”

The crudeness of his final sentence managed to kill the awkward atmosphere and while Mei didn’t approve of the language choice, she was still grateful for another chance to speak. Or at least, attempt to.

“Please listen, Junkenstein – I – I’m sorry. It’s just everyone’s been going on about how awful you are and-“

“Eh, it ain’t a problem. It’s just I’m different to ‘em what with not having any real good inventions or nothin’. But I got one more chance to make something good for Reinhardt, or I really am out. So I’ve got to put everything into this. Honestly.”

He smiled. It was nothing like his usual smile, not a steely tooth in sight. His upper lip lifted slightly, and as his cheeks grew red by the firelight, Mei could slightly make out a small collection of darkened freckles under all that soot. He actually looked kind of-

Mei quickly dismissed _that_ train of thought before she was even aware it had entered her head.

“Listen, Junkenstein, if you wish to sit back down-“she said, lifting the stool back onto its legs after it had been knocked over at some point.

Junkenstein nodded slightly, refusing to meet her eyes like a child caught doing something naughty. “Alright, darl. Sorry ‘bout that, I should be a bit nicer to my landlady, after all.”

_After all, you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like some sort of rodent._

Mei picked the sponge she’d dropped back up and continued to rub the claw marks off his ravaged back. The miniature argument between them had obviously caused his heart rate to increase, as the blood was beginning to run down it again. She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and carried on like nothing had happened. Only this time, unbeknownst to Junkenstein, she did it at a bit more of a distance.

 

*

 

Lord Reinhardt tapped his fingers against the metal armrest of his ornate throne, deep in thought. The news from Torbjorn, as glad as he was to hear it, still made him uneasy. He remembered what his father had told him all those years ago.

_To run a good kingdom, son, you need to evolve. And evolution comes with science. Therefore_ (his father would always point an almost accusatory finger at him at this point, as if knowing what his child’s thoughts on the subject would be in the future) _you must keep the Junkenstein family close, you hear me? You never know when they’ll be needed._

And now, it was only that speech that sat between his Lordship beating the creep up himself.

But was it _right_ , how he and the other villages treated the man?

He mentally slapped himself. Of course it was! You could tell the lunatic barely even _tried_ to help the place out.  He was either cackling madly or staring at his feet with a barely concealed glare every time he was in Reinhardt’s presence; looks that didn’t exactly scream the word _respect_. And now his once-limitless patience had finally worn out.

The guy wanted to play a game? Fine. Now he had one. Make something that actually functions for once. _Then_ Reinhardt might consider actually keeping him around.

The Lord considered himself a fair and just leader, but by now he’d officially had enough with Junkenstein. Maybe, looking back, he’d been a bit _too_ fair, even with a task he’d deliberately set to humiliate the fellow. The Doctor had played him for a fool for all that time in his care, too. Perhaps he should do the same.

Reinhardt’s fingers tapped more rapidly as he considered his options. Send Torbjorn over with a hammer and a “motivational speech”? No, he was sure to receive that sometime in the future anyway – this new tactic had to be extremely _unique._

Then it hit him. Every scientist craved new inventions. And those who craved became jealous. If Reinhardt got Junkenstein to build him something completely new, _completely_ unexpected, it would be the most craved thing in the country, hell, on the known earth. _But what_?

His tapping ceased for a moment.

The lightbulb had already been invented. Telephones, despite their heaviness and long waiting times, still existed. Simply upgrading one wouldn’t be enough.

Reinhardt sighed angrily. It seemed that all the technology people needed in life had already been set out for them. Such was the modern age, after all. How on earth was he even meant to come up with an idea, let alone get the one-legged whackjob to-

He stopped and sat up so quickly the guards at his chamber doors grabbed their weapons, thinking they were suddenly under siege.

_Life._

For what felt like the first time in years, Reinhardt smiled beneath his beard.

Oh, yes. He had just the challenge in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Mei's suspicion is heightened. Looks like Junkenstein will have to face Reinhardt's seemingly "impossible" challenge alone...or will he? Cliffhangers, amirite?


	4. Life, Dr Junkenstein, Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkenstein mopes. Torbjorn visits. And then the Doctor receives a task that makes him sooner prefer another beating than go through with his Lordships's seemingly impossible request.

 

He’d blown it.

There were many things Junkenstein admittedly lacked a large amount of knowledge in when science wasn’t the core of the matter. One of which being human emotion. What with having little to no friends as a child and spending most time with other humans by his operating table, he really hadn’t gotten much of a grasp on recognising facial and body language.

But he could have lived in a remote wasteland for the past ten years and still recognised Mei’s expression as one of disappointment and apprehension.

He’d officially blown it. Now what the fuck would he do?

After being wiped up, he’d briskly thanked her before heading out of her cosy living area with its roaring fireplace and soft rugs to his leaking, rusting, dingy little coven with an even heavier heart than when he’d been ganged up on by the townsfolk. He sat down at the desk he’d crudely constructed the week before and tried to focus back on his new project, but all he could think of was the last few hours. In fact, the disease clung to him like a disease.

Mei had been kind. Hell, she’d been kinder than Junkenstein had ever thought a living being could possibly _be_. Here he was, showing up at her door covered in injuries and she just let him in and patched him up a little. A ratty, scrawny, twitchy man and she didn’t question it at all until afterwards.

Now that was something he’d never expected from _anyone_ , let alone someone he’d only known for about, what, a handful of months?

And he’d gone and _blown_ it. The fact circulated around his mind like a boomerang of pain.

God, how he couldn’t stop thinking of her. Those brown eyes, the rounded glasses, the hesitant smile…bloody hell, why wouldn’t these damn thoughts get the ever-loving fuck _out of his head_?

“Just think about something else” he said to himself, burying his head in his arms. He heard a metallic shuffling and didn’t need to look up to tell it was one of his zomnics. Well, one of the prototypes the villagers hadn’t yet torn apart, anyway. It groaned in a monotonous, buzzing sort of way.

“Yeah, yeah, I know mate” he groaned to it, deciding to randomly spurt something to keep it happy. He couldn’t understand them and was also fairly certain they couldn’t understand him either, but as long as someone made a noise it pretty much counted as conversation. “I’m a real numbskull. Seriously though, what is it with Miss Zhou? Never had feelin’s like this before, I’ll tell ya that.”

The zomnics dragged its feet a few more inches towards him.

“Yeah, I’ll just get dinner and hit the sack. Too tired and bruised ta work anyhow.”

He dragged himself with great effort up from his desk and opened the safe he used to keep his canned items in. Fresh food spoiled too easily and could often be tainted by chemicals in a lab like his, so he stuck to sealed containers for easier meals and a quick burst of energy for the following day.

He eventually found a can of assorted beans at the back, pulling them out, opening the lid and sniffing them to see whether they were okay. A new trick of the villagers’ nowadays was to sell him things at a discount only for him to get home and realise they were mouldy. This was usually the younger children who couldn’t physically attack him, but that didn’t exactly make him feel any better.

The beans smelled alright, even if a bit on the old side, so he limped over to the weakly lit fireplace of his own that had barely any coal on it. The room had clearly been someone’s bedroom at some point; the wallpaper was a dirty white and the bed, while moth-eaten, was clearly originally constructed to be cosy when he first moved in.

None of which bothered the Doctor, who simply demolished the bed (frame, mattress and all) with the help of a sledgehammer before tearing apart the cotton stuffing for a makeshift sleeping spot of his own. The remains of the frame were used to make his desk and the waste was stacked up in the dirtiest corner he could find. The fireplace remained where it was, with a small grille hanging loosely on a pair of iron hinges to stop the fire from spreading too far too quickly. Not that this would be a particular danger for Junkenstein though, who was beginning to think he’d maybe put large amounts of wood on too early and had just used his last match. He sighed and threw the can into the weedy sparks of light without care, spilling a few beans and letting it lie amongst the pebble-sized coals. Then he went over to his “bed”, ruffled up the clumps of cotton to make sure he hadn’t left any mouse traps in it and forgotten about them (due to a rather painful encounter one night in his personal regions when he _had_ forgotten) and lay down on them.

The beans wouldn’t be done for another three hours or so at this rate, so it wasn’t like there was anything else he could really do. Of course, he immediately wished there was when his mind wandered back to a particular landlady again.

“God dammit, get out of my head!” he moaned, rolling over and burying his face in the floor. He hadn’t bothered to take his clothes off, so one of the last remaining buttons on his lab coat buried uncomfortably into his chest.

The zomnics, who had been watching this with mild interest, tilted its head and let out another guttural moan.

“Oh Christ, yeah, you’re still here” Junkenstein moaned, rolling onto his back again. It hadn’t even moved from near his desk yet. “Maybe you’re hungry or something. Well I got news for ya pal, ya don’t need ta eat and even if ya did, I’m skint enough already. Just do me a favour and go maul those other prototypes in the back room so I can sell the scrap, can ya?”

Whether the zomnic had any intention of doing so he never found out, as it just looked at its feet and wandered off to stare at a wall for five hours. He tore his goggles off his face and felt the air hit the marks where they’d been cutting into his skin all day. God, that was soothing. Maybe he could close them for a little while, before having his meagre supper…just a few minutes…or maybe half an hour or so…after all, he felt strangely relaxed now…no, he’d get up after ten…

 

*

 

Thirty seconds later, or so it felt to Junkenstein, he was rudely awakened to sound not unlike cannon fire.

“Wassat?” he mumbled groggily, reaching blindly for the goggles and shielding his eyes from the bright morning sunlight coming through the half-smashed window. He could make out voices from down the corridor by Mei’s section of the manor - she was obviously receiving a guest.

He slowly lifted himself off his makeshift sleeping area and noticed the can of beans he’d set out last night were two feet away from the fireplace and also empty. Great, more parasites. As if he didn’t have _enough_ problems right now. Or did he eat them earlier? He really couldn’t remember; it had been a while since he’d slept that well…

The voices seemed a lot more raised now. Why? Was it the middle of the afternoon and Junkenstein had slept in, or was it just someone who had no respect for the early hours of the morning?

“Mr Lindholm, I’m afraid I can’t let you see Mr Junkenstein right now. It’s my duty as a landlady-“

“It’s your duty as a landlady to tend for the building, Miss Zhou. You don’t have to do squat with tenants. Which is why I’m asking if you can get the Junkenstein freak and bring him here or I’ll go get him myself.”

“This is my property Mr Lindholm; and with all due respect, can you not threaten me in that way, please.”

“It’s a good job I’m not threatening you then, Miss Zhou. Now, if you’ll excuse me-“

There was a sound of sudden movement, Mei’s surprised shouts and heavy stomping coming towards Junkenstein’s bedroom door. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was, so Junkenstein tried to figure out a way to look cool and nonchalant as possible. He dashed over to the fireplace and pretended to stoke it when the door flew open and there stood Torbjorn himself, his face a beetroot red.

“Hello, freak.” He growled, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Hello Mr Lindholm” replied Junkenstein coolly, poking the still coals with the first stick-like appliance he could find – that being a discarded zomnic’s arm. “Didn’t hear you come in. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“First of all you can get away from that fireplace” Torbjorn said, glaring at it like it had somehow offended his mother “and second, you can listen up, because I’ve got a message from Lord Reinhardt.”

The Lordship. That might be something worth listening to, actually. Not because Junkenstein was at all genuinely interested about what he had to say, but because it might give him a loophole or an excuse not to work his hardest. He was _done_ trying to impress the townsfolk anymore after his argument with Mei last night, that was for certain.

“Mr Junkenstein, I’m sorry, he forced his way in-“Junkenstein heard Mei blusteringly apologise as she hurried up behind Torbjorn “I couldn’t – I didn’t-“

“Don’t worry Miss Zhou, Mr Lindholm is just here to pass on a message” Junkenstein replied, not taking his eyes off he hammer dangling from Torbjorn’s thigh. This little man was not going to get the better of him in his own home. No way.

“You’re damn right I do” Torbjorn snarled, drawing himself up to his full height – in another words, just five foot. “Lord Reinhardt has delivered a personal request for your…ah… _ultimate invention.”_

His ensuing smile looked like the skin on his face was splitting open.

“Life.”

Junkenstein blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. _Life._ Real, living, breathing life. A genuine creature, walking around, talking to others, the whole malarkey. You make actual life and hell; you may even become popular around here. At least I won’t hammer you as often, anyway.”

Mei clapped a hand over her mouth in the doorway. _Hammer him?_

Junkenstein stood there dead on his feet, both real and fake. His mouth hung open so widely his jaw may have fallen off had it not be attached.

“Life – but that’s – it’s – it’s just not – it’s not possible!” he spluttered, seemingly having lost the ability to speak “No-one has ever – well – created – hell, _tried_ to create – life!”

“Well, you’d better try” Torbjorn replied, in a much more relaxed stance. He’d dropped the killing blow and was obviously enjoying watching the Doctor squirm under it. Then he put on a sing-song tone that clashed horribly with his heavy accent.

“And if good old Junkenstein-y doesn’t do what he’s told, then what? Will he be out of town-y? All alone? Then again” he added, reverting to his normal voice “it’ll just be the same as it is here, isn’t it?”

Junkenstein could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, ready to tear itself out of his chest. He could count every beat; feel every trickle of cold sweat roll down his forehead. He forced his face into an expression that looked a million times braver than he felt and looked down at the blacksmith.

“Of course, Mr Lindholm. What his Lordship wants, his Lordship will have. _Of course.”_

“Knew you had manners in you somewhere, _Doc_ ” Torbjorn sneered again, that infuriating grin still spread across his bearded features. “Guess it took a few tools to… _prise them out of you_ , huh?”

Junkenstein swallowed thickly. He was going to get it again, didn’t he? Oh God, could he just go a single day without being on the receiving end of grievous bodily harm?

“Mr Lindholm, I insist you leave.”

Both men turned to see Mei with her hands on her hips and a stern gaze.

“Mr Junkenstein will need a lot of time to prepare his invention, and I’m afraid you may be intruding on his hospitality.” The phrase was calm, but definitely had the implied “ _walk out or get kicked out”_ threat behind it.

“Yes of course, Miss Zhou” Torbjorn replied, finally wiping the grin off his face and bowing over, looking like a bowling ball doing so. The situation wasn’t apt enough now, but Junkenstein promised himself a chuckle once it was all over.

Torbjorn spun around on his heel, making sure to knock the Doctor’s stomach with his elbow as he did so.

“See you round, _Junker_.” He guffawed as he stomped back down the corridor as Junkenstein doubled over wheezing. There was a cavernous echo of the door being slammed and he knew his heart rate could now settle since he was finally out of the man’s hammer-swinging radius.

“Mr Junkenstein, I apologise for what happened” Mei repeated, ignoring the sudden feeling of empathy she had for the man, ever after what happened last night. “He just barged on in, and, well-“

She wrestled with her brain to try and find as simple a way as possible to describe the current situation.

“I suppose things just don’t look good, do they?”

No response.

“Mr Junkenstein?”

A weak giggle.

“I’ve got to create… _life_.”

“Well yes, Mr Junkenstein, yes. You summed it up rather well, I suppose.”

Another weak giggle.

“That’s…well…that’s not good.”

“Well, no, Mr Junkenstein, I suppose it isn’t.”

He giggled a third time, before stopping abruptly and passing out.

The last thing he saw before hitting the ground was Mei rushing towards him in a sudden panic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I'm making Torbjorn a real asshole in this story, aren't I? Well, I apologise to all you Torbjorn mains out there, but I want some truly detestable characters so the story has the correct intended effect for when they (SPOILER ALERT) get axed off at some point. But that's not the only thing I want to ask you guys.  
> Should or should I not turn this into a series? This story will finish Overwatch's original Junkenstein story line, and then I would create more set after these events with the same characters except in different Halloween scenarios - I just feel like this premise would work great if it were some form of TV show, so why not as a narrative? Tell me what you think in the comments as well as what you thought about this chapter. We're going to enter the stage of monster-building real soon, I promise y'all that.


	5. Night-Time Activities (And Not In The Good Way)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei engages in criminal activity for a supposed whack-job she barely knows. Why is she doing this again?

“Mr Junkenstein-“

“Darl, we’ve been over this, remember? Ya can just call me Jamie.”

“Yes, sorry Jamie, but isn’t this is a bit…”

“Yeah, darl?”

“Please don’t call me _darl_ , Mr Junke- I mean, Jamie. But do you honestly think that this is the…ah… _best option_ , as it were?”

“Darl, we’ve gotta create life. There’s no textbooks or anythin’ on the matter. So we’re doing this from scratch, as anyone would do.”

“I know, I just didn’t expect something so… _unorthodox_.”

 

*

 

Earlier that evening, after another uneventful day that had been spent alone with Snowball purring on her lap, Mei was rocking back and forth on the rug by her fire despite the existence of the nearby sofa. She was quite looking forward to the steaming mug of cocoa she’d since made, but it was still too hot for her to extract any enjoyment out of it.

She sighed. She was starting to get a tad cold as the chill of the night air started to drift through the abandoned segments of the manor and judging by how deep Snowball’s claws were starting to dig into her leg, he was too. An early night would probably benefit her, as extra sleep often helped her wake up with a more relaxed mind - particularly what with the current thoughts she harboured around her lodger.

It wasn’t Mei couldn’t see good in him, but what with suffering so much rejection throughout his time in Adlesbrun,  Junkenstein had obviously given up trying to be sociable and kind a long time ago. Thus an emotional barrier had been created, one that did not act too nicely towards those intruding upon it, as demonstrated the night before. Despite his bleached hair, he was clearly only around the same age as her, if not younger, which made it all the more sad to see someone so downtrodden and cynical with some much more time left in life. It made her heart ache. And she couldn’t just stand by and let it happen.

It was just a shame that the opportunity to help the poor fellow presented itself dressed all in black rags and carrying a shovel, almost running into her in its haste to slip through the front door behind her back before she locked it up.

The movement was quick, but not quick enough to prevent the door being accidentally closed on his one organic arm.

“ _Ow_!” he hollered, unable to control himself.

Mei jumped slightly; Snowball hissed and ran back off into her living room.

“Mr Junkenstein! Why on earth are you dressed like that?”

“Oh, I was just, ah, slipping out for – well, its nights like these, when I feel the urge to go out and, uh, um – I just thought a brisk stroll before bed would suit me well.”

“Mr Junkenstein, please –“

“Call me _Jamie_ , darl. Ya don’t have to say ma last name the whole time ya know.”

“Jamie, please. Don’t lie to me. Why exactly would you need a shovel if you’re going for a walk?”

“And a bag” Junkenstein blurted out, before internally cursing himself for his loose lips.

“And a bag, precisely. Please. I do not want to be an enemy, but what with the word of the townsfolk and the way you…well…”

“The way I what?” demanded Junkenstein, raising one of his shaggy eyebrows.

“Your little… _outburst_ last night…it’s just making it rather hard for me to trust you.”

_Oh Christ, she **is** wary of me. I knew it. I really have blown it, haven’t I? _

Junkenstein decided there was no other option besides what he was about to do. If he lied, she would be cautious of him. If he told the truth, she would be cautious, possibly even _terrified_ of him. But there was no point lying unless there was something he wanted incredibly badly and for the first time in years, a small part of his _conscience_ came into it.

It wasn’t right to lie to this woman. This kind, gentle, pretty-

_Alright, I get it,_ he told his mind.

“I’m going to go and find materials to create life.” he blurted, trying to get it over with fast as possible. He expected to be bombarded with uncomfortable questions such as what he was going to get and exactly where he was planning in getting it from, but none came. All he received was a smile.

No, he corrected himself. A brilliant smile. It was only a slight movement of the lips, but damn, did it match her eyes. She just looked so – so –

“See?” she said warmly and he tried his absolute best not to stare in awe at her face. “It’s not hard telling the truth, you know.”

Junkenstein decided it was time to get going before he accidentally brought up anything else he shouldn’t.

“Well, if you don’t mind darl, I’ll be goin’ while the night’s still young-“

He was cut off before he could make his escape.

“Please, Jamie, let me come with you! I have good knowledge of where you can gather scientific equipment, or even create some of your own!”

He froze. That was the first time she had used his first name. Craning his neck to look behind himself, he noticed she seemed mildly surprised by this fact too.

“I mean, I – I watch the weather for fun, and I’m particularly interested in the science field, even if I – don’t particularly understand it.”

Junkenstein forced a smile onto his face.

“Ya honestly sure ya up to this?”

She positively beamed. Such a pretty beam, which would instantly be removed once she learned of Junkenstein’s first port of call. His insides uncharacteristically squirmed at the thought. Again, why did they keep doing that?

“Yes, Mr Junken – I mean, yes, Jamie. I’m certain.”

 

*

 

And so the two of them found themselves in their current situation.

“Listen, darl, I know ya probably aren’t too happy about this, but it’s the only place-“

“Well, I can’t say I am, no!” just as he had predicted, all happiness had been drained from her demeanour. It now looked like a painful cross between pity, anger and fear.

But then again, emotions. Not exactly the easiest things in the world.

“It’s the only place I can gather resources for my creation’s new body, Miss Zhou. Or can I call ya Mei? It just seems fair callin’ ya Mei since I gave ya my first name and all” he quickly snickered, trying to inject humour into the situation. Humour, he heard, usually lightened the mood in low moments. But this moment must have been so low it was past the point of no return, as he received nothing in response besides a panic-stricken glance. Obviously now was not the time for something like this, so he quickly shifted his focus back to the task at hand.

“I ain’t askin’ ya to join me, Miss Zhou. Ya can go back home and go ta bed if ya want, I honestly won’t blame ya. But I’m sorry, when you’ve got to create god damn _life_ , ya need parts!”

The usual thunder shook the sky, this time accompanied by a sharp streak of lightning that illuminated the wrought iron gates in front of them. Mei gulped to herself, but squared her shoulders and stood at her full height. She was still a lot smaller than Junkenstein, but it showed nothing but fierce courage and resourceful determination.

“No. No, I’m coming with you.”

Junkenstein couldn’t help but smile in admiration.

“Great. Now hold these for a sec, will ya?” he said as shoved the sack and shovel into her none too gently and immediately set to work, pulling out a tweezer and setting to work on the rusted lock.

“Gotta work fast” he explained, not drawing his eyes away from what he was doing “the grave keeper who watches over this place ain’t too happy about _anyone_ in town sneakin’ around after dark, let alone me. Kinda prefers the solitude, as it were.”

To emphasise his point, he pointed to a metallic sign nailed to the wall by the gate.

 

**ADLESBRUN CEMETARY**

**-GRAVE ROBBERS WILL BE SHOT-**

 

“So I guess it’s a jolly good thing we’re only here for scientific research ain’t it, Miss Zhou” he chuckled, finally hearing the satisfying _click_ of success and pulling the lock off. He flexed his fingers and turned to her. “Right then, we work in minimum light. You got ya map, yeah?”

Mei dug into her coat pocket and pulled it out. “Yes.”

“Great. You go off and find your graves; I’ll go and find mine. We meet up with as many body parts as possible in fifteen minutes and we leg it. Got that?”

He spoke with the air of a man who had done this many times before and this _really_ unnerved Mei. But she simply nodded and handed him three matches, before taking the rest for herself.

“Alright,” Junkenstein grinned, giving her a thumbs up. “Let’s go.”

And faster than she’d ever seen him move, he pushed the gates open and semi-sprinted into the blackness of the graveyard.  She hesitated. Was it good to follow this man into the unknown? At the risk of _death_ , of all things?

She forced herself to think courageously. Junkenstein was relying on her and she was no coward. Not so long as her name was Mei-ling Zhou!

“Get a grip!” she said to herself forcibly, before lighting her match and heading off towards her first target, in the opposite direction Junkenstein had taken. It took her a little longer than she’d have liked, but she eventually found it tucked under an oak tree, decrepit and mouldy. She could see her breath forming misty clouds in the misty air in front of her as she tried to block out the all-too-clear knowledge that this was _wrong._ Then she finally dropped the sack on the damp grass surrounding it and set to work on the mud with her shovel. Every mound of earth she brought up felt like her conscience was slowly sinking into her chest. It was _awful_.

An hour later, or so it felt, she’d finally found the corpse. Well, skeleton, really. She checked the back of the map, which had been scrawled over by Junkenst - _Jamie,_ she corrected herself - like an incredibly morbid shopping list. The skull and the ribs were written underneath this particular stop.

Okay, then.

She stepped into the hole she’d dug.

_CRACK._

Her boot crushed one of the skeleton’s hip bones, the sound echoing throughout the yard. She froze in place and hardly dared to breathe.

Silence. No-one had heard her.

She relaxed again and started to pull it apart like a filthy jigsaw, trying to distance herself from it as much as possible despite the hole only being a few metres wide. There was the ribcage…and there…was…the head! Good. She had everything she needed.

She tossed the items into her sack and climbed out of the hole, wiping mud off herself as she prepared to head towards the next grave.

She still couldn’t hear any other sound besides her heavy breathing, not even Junkenstein. It was like he’d just abandoned her. But he wouldn’t do that. Would he?

No, of course he wouldn’t.

It was just the fact that there was no-one else at this hour. No-one else besides her, the Doctor, that strange jack-o-lantern beaming at her from a mile away, and –

Her heart leaped so high it almost flew up her throat and out her mouth. She snapped back to where she’d been scanning the surroundings and sure enough, there it was. The details were faint, so it must be at a far distance, but she could make out the bright burning eyes and malicious carved grin. Who had pumpkins out at this time? Halloween wasn’t even for a few weeks yet, and it wasn’t like any of the townsfolk would celebrate magic, witchcraft and many other things they hated anyway. She stood stock still to see whether it would move, but it just kept on smiling at her.

She was going crazy. That was all. The stress was simply going to her head. She turned away, counting to ten in her head. When she turned back again, it was gone.

Good.

She wasn’t going to succumb to some silly hallucination because of her _nerves_ , of all things. She huffed, almost angry at herself and swung the sack around her shoulder with more force than intended before heading towards the next grave.

 

*

 

After what she estimated to be twenty minutes, Mei scooped up her haul (now made heavier by more freshly-buried arms and fingers from two other graves she’d visited) and started to follow the stone path she knew led back to the entrance. Hopefully Junkenstein had gathered more than her, as she hadn’t been able to work very fast what with the entire image of the jack-o-lantern constantly nagging at the back of her mind. She stared at her feet the as she speed-walked along, determined not to look at anything else. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.

The flickering illumination of the candle-lit street lamps slowly grew bigger as she approached their direction. Then the fence’s iron bars slowly came into view until the gate eventually hung over her in a truly imposing fashion, as if it knew exactly what she’d been doing. She stood and let herself catch her breath, not even truly aware that she’d been using it up that much. By now, she just wanted to get home and back to the warmth of Snowball and her cocoa. Not running around possibly haunted areas committing crimes. It was just asking for trouble.

A sound approached her ears, an odd step followed by a metallic _thunk_. Not needing to turn around to know who it was, she got ready to ask Junkenstein how much he’d managed to gather compared to rather meagre assortment. As the sound got louder, it seemed to pick up in pace. No doubt he wanted to get home quickly too, wanting to commence with the next stage of – well, she didn’t really want to think about what he’d be doing with this stuff next. Seeing it all once was enough; she had no reason nor urge to do so again.

Her eyes floated back to the warning sign on the wall again. Maybe it was all a psychological ploy, scaring potential grave robbers when really there wasn’t anything to be remotely afraid of besides the dark. After all, besides her little panic attack earlier, she’d yet to see anything outright threatening or remotely dangerous.

Junkenstein’s limps were getting closer and more rapid.

_Sort of like something he would try_ , she suddenly thought suspiciously. _Like he thought I’d chicken out or take too long or something_.

Besides, she’d accidentally made plenty of loud noises on her way around, and she was yet to see absolutely any sign at all of a-

_“GRAVEKEEPER!”_

Junkenstein’s sudden terrified yell sliced through her thoughts like a knife as she spun round to see him frantically being chased by a gigantic figure carrying what looked like some sort of… _steam-powered_ _turret gun?_

The weapon let loose a volley of bullets that tore up the ground behind the Doctor and knocked the head off an angel statue. He ran up and gripped Mei on the shoulders, whom was too shocked to speak.

“I think it’s a good time ta get runnin’, yeah?” was all he panted, before pulling her along behind him as the figure got closer. They hurtled through the gate just in time to dodge more fire as Mei finally found her legs and started sprinting for her life alongside him. The village was only down the bank. Thank Christ everyone built cemeteries on top of hills nowadays; if it was an upwards chase, she’d be bullet fodder in seconds. All they had to do was reach the bridge across the river and-

Another round missed her by inches, whizzing past her eyes like a particularly deadly insect. The man (at least she thought it was a man, it could be a _demon_ for all she knew) was still chasing them despite them having left its territory long ago.

“ _What’s his problem?”_ she screamed over the all-too-loud stomping noises behind them. It was like someone smashing two cymbals together with every step.

_“I dunno, I didn’t really stop to ask, did I?”_ she heard him shriek back, his arms miming frantic windmills as he tried to keep his balance on his peg leg. “ _One minute I was walking back to ya, just fine, and the next he sits up out of a pile of leaves and starts shootin’!”_

They were starting to reach the bottom of the bank and Mei could already feel her physique starting to give out. She really wasn’t cut out for this – to think she originally felt cold, whereas now a panicked run had made her absolutely sweltering hot in her think coat.

The ground levelled out to the bridge, and only _then_ did she trip. Her sense were so dulled and blinded, she didn’t even realise she was falling until her face made painful contact with the gravel below. The stomping sounds grew closer with each second she lay there trying to get her bearings, until her blurred line of sight was blocked by a hulking monstrosity of a being. It had plenty of muscle behind it, wearing a steel gauntlet that had the turret gun locked in place. It wore a helmet with only one round circular hole covered with a visor to see through; marked with the name “Bastion” along the rim, and its chest plate was covered in nails and scratches.

Not to mention that it didn’t look the slightest bit remorseful that it was about to slaughter her in cold blood unless she did something.

“H-here!” she squeaked, holding the sack out and waving it profusely, “take it! We don’t even need it that much! Just stop chasing us and we’ll never come back again!”

The thing looked at the bag. Then back at Mei. Then it cocked its gun again.

Mei scrambled backwards on her behind, trying and failing desperately to get back up. Even if she ran, there wasn’t enough cover to avoid getting peppered with a spray of lead. All she could do was plead and stall for time until she came up with something else.

“Please! You honestly don’t have to do this!” she tried, “We’ll leave! We’re not liked around here much anyway!”

The gun slowly raised towards her face as the blood pounded in her ears…

And then Junkenstein seemingly materialised out of nowhere with a massive tree branch he seemed to have conjured from the ether. He wound up his swing, and then smashed it round the back of the helmet, earning a satisfying _clang._ The thing stood still, not moving, as if trying to process what happened. Five seconds past. Then ten. It didn’t move at all.

Junkenstein slowly edged around it and picked her up by the hand.

“Y’alright, darl?”

Mei sincerely hoped he hadn’t witnessed the entire episode of her begging for her life.

“Yes, yes, fine, Mr Junkenstein. I mean-“

Junkenstein smiled encouragingly. Another one of his more compassionate smiles, which had seemed to grow all the more common today.

“ _Jamie_ , sorry.”

He stretched his arms upwards and scratched the back of his neck as the smile slowly left his features.

“Yeah, I’m good, darl. Ya gotta know me by now, surely! It takes a lot more than somethin’ like that guy to kill Doctor Jamison Junke-“

The gauntlet of the once-immobile grave keeper shot out so fast and so quickly Mei barely had time to register the punch swung in his direction until he cleared the bridge and splashed into the river. She stumbled to the edge to see him floundering around in the deep waters.

“ _Go!”_ he choked in between mouthfuls. “ _Run! It’s-it’s comin’ up behind ya!”_

A quick turn to look behind her allowed her a split second to avoid meeting the same watery fate. The punch missed, but she felt the air ripple by the side of her face, flowing against her cheek in one heart-stopping moment. She jumped backwards before summoning what remained of her strength and flying off over the bridge’s other end and into the village before it could fire again.

Not deterred by civilization, the thing turned its torso around at an impossible angle and resumed the chase, leaving Junkenstein to grab onto a discarded log whilst bobbing up and down. He coughed up water before pushing soaked strands of milky hair out of his face.

“Hold on Mei, darl, I’m comin’. I ain’t that much of a scumbag that I’m gonna let ya die”

He’d quite impressed himself with this promise and proceeded to the water’s edge to try and climb out. It was only then he noticed something felt rather off. He looked down at his legs to notice only one was actually there – the real one. His prosthetic was floating off into the distance, its bronze sheen flashing at him flauntingly, obviously having had come off at some point in the chaos.

The Doctor looked at the stump below the right-hand side of his thigh which was trying to failing to get a grip on the grassy bank before calmly assessing the situation.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's my interpretation of Bastion in this, or at least how Mei perceives him in the panic. I've decided to include at least a single appearance of each hero in this series (if it ends up becoming one) to entertain every reader - especially with the next Halloween event starting to come along. SO EXCITED, by the way.   
> Mention in the comments what you thought of this chapter, as I hope leaving it on a cliffhanger will make the next one even better when it is done. They would be greatly appreciated for constructive criticism and how I can help build the relationship between Mei and Junkenstein. Yes, I truly am hooked on this ship.


	6. The Damn Yankee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking at the cowboy, Junkenstein felt something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was soon to go down in history as the man who created life, yet something about the guy and the way he spoke to Mei made him feel...jealous?

Jesse McCree considered himself a half-ethical sort of guy: on the one hand, he believed in a solid line between good and evil, yet on the other he often dabbled with it and would gladly kill a man if the pay was right. Yet he’d always convinced himself that what he did could never be considered _true_ evil. Everyone had to have standards, after all.

On this particular venture, he’d been hired to track and take out bandits that were ambushing and robbing merchants when they travelled through the fabled Black Forests of Germany. While camping out in tents made from deer skin and drinking his own urine for nourishment were not exactly alien to him, he’d decided to spare himself this time around and settled in an inn at the nearby town of Adlesbrun. While not exactly the face of the technological revolution (that being that some aspects of modern life _were_ there, yet no building looked younger than at least a hundred and fifty years old), he found it perfectly cosy and restful. The inn was attached to a bar, which was of course too good an opportunity to miss before he went to bed each night, so he frequently visited there the moment he returned from the woods.

On this particular night, however, he hadn’t exactly had the most successful day. Not a single bandit had appeared in the duration of his six hour patrol through the woods, yet he’d encountered two dead bodies of what he could easily recognise as farmers with gaping holes through their chest and all their goods taken. Obviously these were the ones who had tried to put up a fight and quickly failed. He took off his hat for both before shutting their eyes and burying them by a tree before continuing onwards. It wasn’t his business what these people did to deserve a bullet, but respect for the dead was respect for the dead either way.

With sore legs he headed back home as dusk settled in, not wanting to be caught unawares in the dark by the very people he was meant to be hunting down. He strolled into town in the exact direction of his favourite stop and cricked his neck before swinging open the bar doors, saloon-style. A few heads turned in his direction and he responded with a cheeky wink - admittedly he received a lot less glares than when he first arrived in town, so he took this as a hopeful sign the townsfolk were starting to accept his existence. He sidled up to one of the stools by the main counter and drawled “pint of lager, please, miss” in his signature Texan accent.

The barmaid, Emily, tutted and turned to face him with a cynical glance. “For a supposed _lone ranger_ Mr McCree, you certainly like to draw unprecedented amounts of attention to yourself”.

“Ah, it’s my time to relax and just by myself, miss. Now, about that lager?”

The redhead just smiled in response. She pulled back one of the taps to fill up a waiting tanker and she did so, McCree took in the crowd. Of course, as per usual, there was the Swedish dwarf sitting by a long-haired Japanese fellow. Then in the corner it appeared a dark-skinned youth seemed to be flirting with a girl in a pink bodysuit of what he assumed was some sort of Asian descent.

Maybe these people were all outcasts from their respective homes, he thought sadly. He knew the feeling. Being an ex-outlaw himself, he’d often tried to settle down but quickly found out shortly afterwards that the old life always managed to catch up to him unexpectedly one way or another – whether it was the law or just the urge to get out there and _do something again_ , he never managed to stay in one place for longer than a month. Maybe it was a similar reason for all the people he was staring at now, maybe they’d faced some form of mishap in the past that reshaped them to the way they lived today…

He heard the signature sound of a filled tanker being placed on the bench in front of him and drifted out of his thoughts long enough to automatically reach into his pocket for coins.

Dammit. A hole.

“Hey, uh, Miss Emily?”

Emily rolled her eyes as well as her left eyebrow at the same time.

“Why can’t you pay this time, Mr McCree?”

He shrugged. “Would you believe a bottomless pocket?”

“Compared to the number of other excuses you’ve handed me before, I don’t find that too hard to believe. Alright, I’ll put it on your tab, but you’d better pay for all of them the next time you’re in, you get me?”

“You’re a lifesaver, sweetheart” he grinned, stretching his arms out in an exaggerated hug.

“Oi, you’d better not be flirting with my girlfriend over here, luv!” giggled a chirpy voice behind him. McCree turned to see the Oxton girl pulling up a stool beside him and bouncing onto it with her everyday bout of seemingly limitless energy. 

“Can’t blame me for trying there, can you?” he joked, turning to face her as Emily poured out another drink “so anyway, how’s the fruit stand doing?”

He’d been at Adlesbrun long enough to learn about where each town member worked, at least.

“Blimey, it was awful today. Barely made any money and it’s gotten dark already!” she replied, sipping her fresh round of cherry juice in a pint glass. “Bloody brass monkeys out there, I tell you!”

McCree decided not to bother inquire as to what she meant by that remark, but did indeed notice that it was only six and the sky was almost completely black. He didn’t really feel like hitting the hay just yet, however, and gulped back his round.

“Another please, Emily” was all he said, and his wish was granted.

“Mind you McCree, if you collapse down drunk, I won’t be carrying back to your home” Emily smiled, but the look in her eyes assured him she meant it.

“No problem missy. If I can carry and use a gun, I can control the amount I drink each night.” He tapped the brim of his oversized hat and commenced to slurp down the next just as greedily. Lena and Emily gave each other a knowing glance.

 

*

 

By his fourth round, McCree decided he was light-headed enough to get some sleep so he stood up as best he could without collapsing, thanked both the girls (who were by this point in fits of laughter) and strolled to the exit, while making sure to take his time to avoid potential embarrassment via failing to understand that it was a push door rather than a pull.

The chill of the night air hit his face so hard it was like an icy backhand. He shuddered and drew his poncho up around his mouth to avoid seeing his own breath. He _hated_ the cold. Sure, it was refreshing, but he’d always preferred the open, blazing planes of Texas and always found it easier to cool himself down rather than warm himself up.

“I suppose in this weather, a nice cigar would cheer me up” he said to no-one other than himself as he sat down on one of the pub’s sodden outdoor benches and pulled out his lighter and favourite brand of tobacco product. He lit in and took a drag, letting the smoke unfurl from his nostrils and briefly entertained the idea of being a dragon. Yeah, right.

Off in the distance, a girl screamed. Man, the sounds you heard at night…

He paused as the last faint wisps trailed into the darkened sky. He _must_ be drunk, because he could’ve sworn he just heard a woman in trouble. Plenty of dangerous things happened in the woods of course, otherwise he wouldn’t be here – but for someone to face peril in this idyllic little area…it just couldn’t be.

The scream happened again, this time a lot more audible. And this time, he also wasn’t too sure of himself any more.

“No way” he thought to himself, rubbing to himself “the one time shit happens today and I’m absolutely hammered.”

He grumbled and looked in the direction of the noise; down the main street and facing the bridge out of town. Then his decision of whether or not to pursue the noise was suddenly and rather rapidly made for him as a woman in a thick coat carrying a sack and wearing large glasses panting as she hurtled right past him without paying a second’s notice. He stared after her, utterly bemused; until his attention was diverted by a…well…there wasn’t really any name for her pursuer other than armoured-killer-cyborg-demon-thing, which didn’t exactly roll off the tongue either. It similarly took no heed to him, instead choosing to lock onto the poor female like a heat-seeking torpedo.

Despite the severity of the situation, McCree felt a smile creep across his features. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but his hand fastened itself around the handle of his signature revolver as he allowed himself to run after them both. Finally, some goddamn action.

 

*

 

Mei was having one hell of a hard time trying to outrun the big metal beast that chased her without seeming to tire at all. She huffed as she ran into the market square, grabbing a crate of Lena’s fruit stock (internally apologising for what she was about to do) and tossing it at him. The crate simply smashed against his chest piece. She ran over to the blacksmith’s, wrenched one of Torbjorn’s wrenches (with much less apology in mind, she briefly noticed) before flinging that too. She achieved a small dent, but no real payoff with that either.

A heavy tool made to forge even the strongest of metals didn’t work. What the _hell_ would?

Something smacked against the side of her head and the world spun. The grave keeper had apparently picked up on her technique and was taking its own turn to toss rocks in her direction. She fell down, grasping at the concrete to get a grip on something she could hurl, her glasses having been shattered in one lens from the impact.

“Now call me old-fashioned darling, but I think a good old bullet would do the trick, don’t you?” came a lazy drawl from somewhere behind her.

She spun around onto her back, ready to either hug Junken- _Jamie_ , or berate him endlessly for dragging her into all this. Then she realised that the figure leaning against the fountain in the centre of the square was both wearing a cowboy hat and had both functioning arms and legs. The faint orange glow of a cigar end crackled slightly, before he pulled out of his mouth, dropped it and ground it under his boot.

The grave keeper had seemingly frozen halfway through tossing another rock, as it stood there, one in hand and its head slightly tilted, as if it couldn’t quite compute the ridicule of what it was seeing. Mei herself was indeed partially wondering if this was her second hallucination in a row, this time caused via blunt head trauma. But when the cowboy fired six shots at the speed of light without her even seeing a gun, she knew from the sudden pain in her ears that it was all too real.

The shots caused the keeper to stumble, but it crushed the rock between its fingers and cocked its turret gun again as the opponent rolled to the left out of the way. The ensuing bullet storm punched massive holes into the fountain walls, decimating the architecture and causing small fountains of water to splash upwards upon impact. The very _second_ the turret gun stopped firing, the cowboy leaped back onto his feet and into the already-dented chest piece, attempting to knock the grave keeper onto the ground. Mei tried to focus on the blur of rapid violence unfolding in front of her, but it was all so fast she couldn’t register how they were trying to kill each other as by then they were doing it in a different way. But whatever techniques the cowboy was employing, seemed to gain the upper hand, as with a firm grab and a sharp pull, the helmet was wrenched off to reveal…what _was_ that?

It looked like a small metal cuboid, except for the vertical slit which spilled startlingly blue light into their faces, temporarily blinding them. It used the distraction to try and get back up again, but the cowboy reloaded his revolver in a single move, flipped it and fired at point blank range straight into the glowing source. There was a smashing of glass and the light cut off instantly, plunging the square back into its dim orange shade from the street lamps. The grave keeper’s head clattered, and time seemed to freeze as everything went deathly silent; a silence that was just as deafening as the fight just seconds ago. Then the cowboy collapsed onto his back, wheezing and panting.

“I must tell you, darling, that’s the most intense fight I’ve had since I was twenty! Gotta thank you for making my time in this place worthwhile, I suppose.”

Mei eventually found her voice after making sure she wasn’t going to throw up first. She slowly stood, her knees feeling like they hadn’t been used in decades.

“Th- thank you, Mr…?”

The cowboy took her hesitation as an opportunity to pick himself up too. He tipped a theatrical wink and straightened that ridiculous hat of his, which she only just realised hadn’t come off whatsoever during all that.

“McCree, darling. Jesse McCree.”

“Well, I must thank you profusely, Mr McCree. Had you not helped, I may just have died there. I think I should tell you my name’s Mei, by the way.”  
 McCree smiled gratuitously as he lit another cigar without even realising he was doing so. He really ought to get out of such a habit.

“Ain’t no trouble saving a girl as pretty as yourself” he replied nonchalantly, extracting joy from how red Mei went in response to this statement. Mei quickly searched her brain for a reply that wouldn’t sound too odd.

“Uh, I, uh, you too, Mr McCree.”

McCree just kept on smiling that easy smile, like he couldn’t remove it from his face even he wanted to.

“Tell you what Miss Mei, do you fancy heading to the inn with me?  I’ll get you a drink. Least I could do for you making my day somewhat enjoyable. I’ve had a little too many, though, so you’ll be the only one.”

Mei struggled to process everything in an almost embarrassingly slow fashion. The battle she had just witnessed kept popping up in her brain every time she tried to form a sentence.

“I – well, you certainly don’t seem it, Mr McCree. But yes, thank you, I suppose I could do with something stronger” she attempted to make conversation. “Would be a lot more comforting than the cocoa I was originally going to have, especially after all _that_!”

McCree laughed and she could tell it was warm and genuine. She felt her lips tug slightly at the edges, a smile fighting for space to be shown.

“Come on then, darling. A round on the house.”

Her smile finally won over and she turned to follow him back across the square down the narrow alley she’d been chased through only ten minutes ago. This man was incredibly kind, saving the life of an unknown stranger. Not to mention the free drink.

She paused. What if he was going to poison her or get her drunk and…

No, of course not. She was still just jittery after her encounter, that was all.

But one gnawing suspicion continued to plague her, the sensation that she’d _forgotten something_. Something major. Mei still couldn’t place her finger on it as they approached the inn doors. Something really important to her, or at least what she assumed was something important to her…

“Oi, yank! Who in the bleedin’ hell are you supposed to be?”

McCree whirled around before Mei could even squeal in shock, his deadly six-barrel pointed at an incredibly waterlogged Junkenstein, limping up behind them. His white hair was grimy with dirt and grass, and what looked like a dead haddock was lodged in his lab coat pocket, which was ripped and torn all over. The usual metal leg was completely gone, meaning he was instead balancing his weight on the piece of wood he’d smashed over the grave keeper’s head; under his arm like a pauper’s crutch.

“More to the point, partner, who are you? I’d hate to have to shoot you.”

Junkenstein attempted to draw himself to his full height, almost falling backwards in the process.

“My name is Doctor Jamison Junkenstein, esteemed scientist and soon to be creator-of-life, ya West-side gasbag!”

McCree chuckled somewhat, which turned the Doctor’s expressions from annoyed to enraged.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a real nutjob mister, but you sure don’t seem too dangerous. You want to join us? Me and Miss...um… _Mei_ , was it? We’re heading in for a drink.” McCree pointed to the doors, getting ready to push them open again.

“Nah, I got better places to be” Junkenstein said through gritted teeth. Mei noticed an uncharacteristic look of venom on his features, almost jealousy. Why would he _jealous_ of this man? “Mei, ya got the bag?”

McCree frowned. “What bag, exactly?”

“I don’t believe it’s any of ya business, _partner_.”

Mei quickly unclipped the bag from the back of her coat before an argument ensued.

“Here you are” she said briefly “some of it may be slightly crushed after the whole ordeal, but I’m hoping everything works out for you.”

She noticed the Doctor’s expression soften slightly, but then McCree spoke again and it instantly returned to one of pure stone.

“Well darling, are we going in? It’s getting mighty cold out here now the adrenaline’s worn off.”

Mei silently agreed, but kept on facing Junkenstein. “Seriously though, Jamie, do you want to come in? It’s just to relax for a bit.”

Junkenstein, for his part, seemed to become very suddenly interested with something on the floor.

“Nah thanks darl, honestly. I’ll go back to the lab and get started. No rest for the weary, right?”

He released a weak giggle, one Mei hadn’t heard since Torbjorn broke the news to him the day before. But this one seemed to have more resentment behind it than fear.

“Alright…well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Jamie.”

Junkenstein tried to keep a serious composition in front of the cowboy, but inside he was happy as anything at the fact that Mei had called him the way he wanted to be called. Not “freak”, not “Junker”, but _Jamie._

“You too, Miss Mei” was all he offered in reply, scared he might be unable to resist the temptation to hug her. And with that, he hobbled off; feeling slightly more uplifted than he had ten minutes before when he’d had to fish himself out of the river one-legged.

He was so absorbed in thoughts of the titular Chinese woman, however, that he failed to notice the eerie Jack-o-lantern watching him from a nearby cottage window; it’s hollow, burning eyes tracing every limping step he made back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prizes for guessing who the jack-o-lantern is. But how do you guys feel about this year's Halloween update anyway?  
> Bought the Junkenstein's Monster skin pretty much immediately, so it's just the man himself left to purchase and I'll be happy. As always, please share and comment your thoughts on this chapter down below, as it really motivates me to be more engaged in writing each chapter. I've added a few more tags so that'll hopefully help me get more hits too.


	7. Preparation of Different Kinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to prepare for the village's annual Halloween celebration, except with two suspicions having been aroused in the townsfolk: how exactly was the village square ruined overnight, and why is that Mei-Ling Zhou woman acting so strangely?

_Fucking cowboy with his perfect fucking grin and fucking hat and-_

Junkenstein hobbled down the hallway, right past his bedroom and forcefully barging the door next to it open. His lab, as he liked to call it - though it had initially just been a dining room and second kitchen, with the wall between them now violently knocked down to make space and ease of access.

_Fucking big gun and shiny teeth and fucking-_

Junkenstein slammed the two sacks down onto his desk, fuming to himself. Two nearby zomnics picked themselves up off the clod stone floor and stared blankly at him. He paused and turned to glare back.

“The fuck are you looking at, ya pieces of tin?”

The zomnics stared for a few seconds more then silently went back to trying to gnaw off each other’s legs.

“Yeah, that’s right. What I oughta do to that damn cowboy” he mimed a series of vicious moves he improvised randomly on the spot, “be all like _Get back to the West right now, ya punter!_ Then backhand him twice, then a peg leg to the groin, and-“

He tried to extend his peg leg outwards to kick the air and then promptly lost his balance again upon remembering much too late that it wasn’t attached. This brought him out of his self-indulgent rant long enough to fling open a mouldy cupboard and pull out of his many spares he liked to build when he had a blank mind.

“Only damn thing I seem able to do right” was all he said to that matter, before feeling the hip joint click into place and the metal augmentation began to move with his own. God, was it good to have two feet again.

He hobbled back over to his bench, deliberately taking slow steps to calm himself down, before pulling a lever embedded crudely into the wall. Gears and chains above his head began to creak and turn, as a large metal slab twice the size of Junkenstein’s entire body was lowered to torso height, taking up nearly the entire room. The zomnics, seemingly annoyed at having their space being intruded upon, groaned loudly and drifted out of the door, one behind the other.

“Weirdos” was the only thought he gave them, before turning his attention to the matter at hand. He emptied the two sacks onto the slab, setting as much as he could into some semblance of a human body like a psychopath’s jigsaw puzzle. He noticed he happened to be about half a torso short; Mei had obviously been too slow with her grave-robbing. But what bones hadn’t been grounded into fine powder after the encounter with the Grave Keeper he considered a job well done. He supposed he’d better thank her once she got back.

From drinking.

With the _cowboy_.

He didn’t realise how angry that statement got him before he heard a rib he’d fished out of the sack cracking to shards under his gloved fingers. He quickly set it down, purging the memory as best as he could and slamming his head against the slab for good measure.

“And good riddance to bad rubbish, yank.”

Now, what was he doing again? Oh, yeah.

He straightened his goggles, ruffled his hair and set to work with his surgical tools.

 

*

 

Mei certainly found McCree charming, even if a bit on the sloppy side. But alcohol was indeed known to make even the smartest men idiots, so she didn’t hold it over him. A drink he promised and it was a drink she got. You couldn’t ask for honesty as simple as that.

Well, it had obviously been more than _one_ drink. A single pint couldn’t possibly have made her black out overnight, thus waking up slouched backwards on a rug with Lena Oxton and the barmaid Emily’s faces grinning over her as she woke up.

“Mornin’, luv!” Tracer said, chipper as ever.

Mei shrieked and dived backwards, hitting her head against the bottom of a stool and disrupting a series of empty bottles scattered all around her. How many did she _have_?

“W – I’m sorry, what time is it?”

“Early morning” Emily chimed in, “we just couldn’t you two to leave last night, so we left you to rest your eyes. For you it isn’t a problem, but for McCree…well, let’s just say it’s been at least the seventh or eighth time he’s ended up like this.” An annoyed look glimmered over her demeanour for a split second before she turned back to Mei with the same kind smile. “Anyway, wait until you get outside into the square! It’s pandemonium! Stalls smashed, the fountain destroyed…there’s some kind of armour scattered all over the place so we’re thinking someone passing through got attacked by some kind of wild animal.”

 _You’d think so, the way they were both fighting last night,_ Mei thought to herself, fighting the urge to look at McCree in case one of the two girls caught her gaze. She vaguely heard him mumble something about cattle under his breath as he dozed and decided it better to go out and get some fresh air before trying to wake him up. Upon walking groggily outside, however, she began to wish she hadn’t bothered at all.

A scene of absolute carnage met her eyes. In the darkness and panic of the previous night, she’d neither noticed nor gathered the inclination to tidy up the ravaged square. The fountain was of course in stone tatters, having been shredded apart by those gigantic bullets. Potted plants lined around it were spilling mud and loose leaves everywhere and half the windows on the neighbouring shops were smashed, their contents making a distinctive _crunch_ every time she tried to take a step. She attempted not to look too guilty as she approached, avoiding the glances thrown her way by the likes of Torbjorn, a dark-skinned youth with dreadlocks and a hunter with his dogs, who were all trying to scoop what they could up without pricking their hands. One of the dogs had dried blood on their left paw. Whether it was from the glass fragments or had been from the recent ganging-up on Junkenstein almost a week back, she really didn’t want to know.

“There’s a very strange sort of metal alloy making up this discarded armour,” the huntsman said from behind, picking up the casing of the Grave keeper’s head, sniffing it and inspecting the name across the rim.

“Well, there’s plenty of people who work with metals –“ Mei interjected, having a sinking feeling as to where this was going.

“All of us were asleep this time last night, man. We all asked each other and therefore have solid alibis” spoke up the dreadlocked boy, sucking his thumb as he accidentally cut it on a particularly sharp edge.

“Someone can always tell lies-“

“There’s white hairs and fabric from a white coat all over the place” Torbjorn growled, fishing something from below his boot. Mei rapidly searched for a defense as he pulled out Junkenstein’s discarded leg “and I literally found this a few miles down the road in the river.”

“Yes, but – uh – this could easily be-“

“Why are you defending Mr Junkenstein, dear lady?” piped up the huntsman again. His tone was soft, but the contempt was obvious. “He has done nothing to warrant any kindness as of late.”

Mei had quite simply had enough. What did it matter? She could be nice to whoever on earth she _wanted_ to be nice to.

“I am simply stating the fact that we should for no reason jump to conclusions. Someone could have, for example, framed him and covered up their tracks.”

“Yeah, except there’s literally no ruddy point to any it” Torbjorn barged in, “there was some kind of fight or weapons test here and there’s only one person who hates the town like this.”

“Well you don’t give him much of a chance to _like_ it, do you?” Mei blurted out in a sudden rage that was incredibly surprising, even to herself.

“Lady, we’ve given the freak plenty of chances” was all Torbjorn replied with in an indifferent manner, as if this cleared everything up. It was _infuriating_. She whirled around in a sudden temper, not caring for potential rudeness any more.

“Tell me Mr Lindholm, have you ever heard the phrase _forgive and forget?”_

“Tell me _Miss Zhou_ , have you ever heard the phrase _get your nose out of other people’s business?”_

Mei’s cheeks grew red from slowly rising anger as she heard the dreadlocked boy mutter “ _ooh, burn_ ” behind her. She turned to head on back to the manor, but then something was released from the blacksmith’s mouth that made her blood start to boil, much against her usual nature.

“For your information and personal safety Miss Zhou, I also distrust anyone who accossiates themselves with the guy. They’d be just as slimy as him.”

Mei was silent and it was only due to her determination to be the better person that she didn’t slap him right there and then.

“Are you threatening me, Mr Lindholm?”

“Not at all Miss Zhou” Torbjorn smiled, shrugging his shoulders in exactly the correct way so as to allow her a great view of his hammer, “I simply state that no-one in town will defend the guy, so why would they do the same for any of his so-called _friends_?”

Mei bit her lip. If a fight broke out (and the probability was very much tilted towards the fact that one _would_ ) she was outnumbered three to one. She refused to even dignify Torbjorn’s words with a response and was about to resume her pace back home before –

_“His Lordship! His Lordship is here!”_

Lena’s cry from down the lane turned every surrounding head and sure enough, there he was. Lord Reinhardt strode along with the air of someone who had absolutely nothing to worry about, flanked by a small brigade of four guards. Despite the party’s size, it seemed to attract the attention of the entire town, as people flocked from out of buildings and behind walls until they stopped by the ruined fountain and the Lord took a deep breath.

“What madman would dare ruin the precious delicacies of our town?” he finally asked the heavy silence. Mei looked closely and was surprised to see he appeared genuinely upset. There was sadness, yet also a small quantity of anger hidden behind his tones – so powerful, it seemed, that not even Torbjorn dared speak up for a minute. Mei decided it was high time she beat him to the chase.

“An armoured beast, my Lord. It seemed to have entered during the night. Everyone here believes it to be-“she swallowed her pride, “- Dr Junkenstein.”

Reinhardt stopped slightly at the mention of his name, but unlike everyone else, did not proceed to immediately contradict her. He stood back up again and walked over, drawing the eyes of every villager. She tried her best not to feel intimidated – not too easy when the person she may soon be locked in an argument with was wearing full battle armour.

“I’m afraid I do not recognise you as well as I should, my dear. What is your name exactly?”

“Miss…Miss Mei-Ling Zhou, my Lord. Dr Junkenstein is my lodger and I was…”  
She internally wrestled with the idea of telling the truth. The appraising look from both the Lord’s seeing and unseeing eyes decided it was time to go half-and-half.

“I was out with him the other night when that thing attacked. We were…”  
Where could she say they had been? Lena and Emily’s was obviously out of the question, as they only saw her with McCree. Of course simply saying the graveyard would raise all-too-personal questions as well.

“…we were just out walking” she finished somewhat lamely, hoping the pause hadn’t been too obvious.

Reinhardt held that look for a few seconds longer before giving a grunt and smile. He squared his shoulders, turned to address the rest of the amassed observers and Mei released a breath she didn’t realise she’d even been holding.

“But let us ignore such disgusting acts!” he boomed in a fit of happiness “that is not the only reason I am here! I have arrived to invite you all along, as always, to my Halloween celebration tonight!”

A large cheer rose. Mei, for her part, was confused – then again, she never used to spend much time in the village and could only blame herself for not knowing the annual celebrations that took place. The change of subject had also been incredibly rapid and she wondered whether she’d actually been believed or not.

“We will start carving our pumpkins and decorate this town nicely!” continued the Lord, his voice seemingly magnified in the anticipating silence. “Everything must look as terrifying as possible; you should all know our ways by now. You all know the time: ten ‘o clock, no earlier, no later!”

Mei could hear Torbjorn roar in agreement. Then Reinhardt crouched down slightly so he was on level with most of his subjects before whispering in like a cheeky schoolboy – “We may also have a _little couple’s dance_ , shall we say? Get some sparks going?”

Lena and Emily hugged each other and a few Mei couldn’t name also gave each other rather flirtatious glances. Good for them.

“But for the meantime” he continued, his voice still somewhat audible over what was now absolute hubbub, “let us go home and prepare as always!”

And without another word, he and his guards marched off back in the direction of the castle.  Mei was ready for a third attempt to do likewise, but Lena skipped up to her as she determinedly kept walking.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” she questioned, flashing pleading brown eyes. Despite the fleeting urge to see Jamie, she couldn’t help but laugh at her puppy-like expression.

“Yes, Lena, of course I am. It sounds rather fun in all honesty! I just haven’t thought of a costume yet…”

“Well you’d better hurry luv, because everyone else has” Lena giggled, jogging backwards so as to look Mei directly in the face.

“Yes, well, perhaps I can get Jam – I mean, Doctor Junkenstein to make me one…” she murmured, then instantly became slightly repulsed at the thought that she was dependant on _him_ of all people for no reason. Lena’s face didn’t exactly assure her it was the right thing to say either.

“Mei” she said in a tone that came across as accusatory, “didn’t I tell you about that guy?”

“Yes you did, Lena. But anyway, I need to get a costume. I’ll see you tonight.”

“But-“  
“ _Goodbye_ , Lena.”

Mei increased her pace; glad that Lena had stopped jogging beside her so she could carry on uninterrupted. She tried her best not to picture how unpleasant she had just seemed and didn’t dare look back at the younger girl’s stationary form.

 

*

 

“Jamie? Jamie! Listen, there’s this thing going on toni-“

She shoved upon the door to Junkenstein’s “lab” and merely stopped short of screaming out loud from the combination of the smell and what was on the hanging slab in front of her. The pungent whiff of rotting meat and gasoline was bad enough, but it all faded into insignificance compared to the large mass laying spread across the metal surface.

It looked like a man, except three foot taller than any she’d ever seen before. Its arms were like mossy green tree trunks, stiches sown along every rippling muscle, and its stomach was incredibly bloated, two pipes coming out either side and the skin seemingly stretched to breaking point in a demented patchwork. Only when she dared step closer did she realise its real face was hidden behind that of a pig’s, which was loosely attached and tied up at the back. A pair of ridiculously sized pants had been shoved on the legs and a rugged brown tailcoat around the arms (both so filthy that Mei had to assume the Doctor had made them both himself), each embedded with random dials and metres.

“Hello, Mei!” she heard Junkenstein limp over from the other side of the room, looking the happiest she’d ever seen him in the past few days, “I know it’s a good-lookin’ monster and all, but could ya not get too close in case the valves I implanted in the heart overflow and blow up?”  
She didn’t need telling twice. “What…Jamie…what the hell is all this?”

“It’s _life_! My greatest creation! _Duh_! Don’t tell me ya need remindin’, surely!” he frantically waved his arms around with pure exhilaration, before pausing slightly. “Then again, I need to just add a few finishin’ touches and then inject it with some electricity before it actually walks and talks and shit.”  
Mei was almost afraid to ask.

“How much electricity are we talking, exactly?”

“About six thousand volts, give or take.”

“ _Six thousand volts_?”

“Give or take, of course.”

“Jamie…how are you planning on getting this amount exactly?”

“Oh, I hooked up the fuse box to every other house’s in the area at about one in the morning. Ain’t had a wink of sleep” he ranted cheerily, a tone which severely contradicted the deep purple bags under his eyes.

“Jamie…please, it’s just…if the rest of the townsfolk find out about this, they’ll…”

Junkenstein gripped her by the shoulders, not looking the least bit perturbed.

“So what? They love living like it’s the bloody Victorian era or some crap like that, so they can go without electricity for a week or to, can’t they? Besides, they want to get annoyed at me for using up all the electricity? I tell them the Lord wanted a brilliant new invention and it requires electricity to do so. Boom, blame averted. Now then, let’s get on with it.”

Before she could make any move to stop him, he’d picked up a scalpel and carved the outline of a letter “t” into the creature’s belly. She covered her eyes at the sight of the skin tearing and only opened them again upon hearing the phrase “all done!”

She tore her eyelids open and the word “TERROR” jumped back at her. “Listen, Jami-“

“Hold on a sec, darl, I’m just tryin’ to-“

“There’s a celebration on at the Lord’s castle tonight.”

Junkenstein, to his credit, didn’t seem to let the mention of the Lord ruin his mood. He just grunted and continued doing whatever disturbing thing he was doing. “Halloween celebration. I know.”

“I was wondering whether you wanted to come along with me.”

Well _that_ made him look away from the creature for a minute.  He paused and squinted, as if trying to work out if she was really there or not. Now it was _his_ turn to become the hesitant one.

“You want me to come to a…party…with…with you?”

“Just as friends!” Mei quickly added, feeling her cheeks turn red “just to get something to eat, socialise somewhere other than here for a bit, you know!”

It was only then she noticed that Junkenstein was blushing too.

“Of course, I just- of course, darl. I suppose so. Just…I ain’t too keen on going to a celebration with a buncha people who hate me and I ain’t got too much of a costume or anythin’.”

“No problem, I’m good at sewing-“

“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that, I can just make something real quick no problem…”

Mei couldn’t take it anymore. The almost pleading look on Junkenstein currently had was so much more different than his usual bout of manic glee – it was just crying out for a, well…

She wrapped her arms around his waist with a tight hug despite how ridiculously taller he was up close. She felt every muscle in his body tense in surprise, but he made no move to stop her, so she took this as a sign to hold on all the more firmly. In the end, he simply said “so…”

She finally decided it was time to withdraw and noticed he now seemed absolutely shell-shocked.

“Party, yeah? Suppose we’d, uh, we’d better get prepared then.”

Mei tried not to laugh at how his cheeks seemed to be carrying their own climate. “Of course, Jamie. I’ll meet you at eight in the hallway, yes?”

“Uh…yeah, yeah, darl- I mean, Mei. No problem…”

Without another word, she left the room, letting her grin consume her face at the sight of Junkenstein scratching the back of his neck bemusedly. She vaguely heard him mutter, “Costume, costume, costume…” before walking into the living room and starting to dig around in cupboards, rousing Snowball from a deep slumber in his usual spot by the fire. Now, where had she put her sewing machine again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, this took quite a while to write since I was mainly just trying to set stuff up for the climax, but at least I managed to insert more of the relationship side of things. All the same, I hope you like this anyway and I'm much more certain you'll enjoy where the story's going next...I hope! By the way, if anyone has any ideas they want me to include in either this story or the forthcoming series (as I am certain this is now going to be part one), leave a comment and I'll see if I can embed them in some way - it's always fun to see how the readers would want this to pan out.


	8. You'll Be Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatings. Sewage. Tears. To think that he could have avoided all of this had he originally just...let his bad side out.

The blonde-haired woman narrowed her steel-blue eyes as she sipped her cup of tea. The wooden supports of the hut were starting to wear, so it was only a matter of time before she’d have to tax herself with repairing it via some form of mundane spell or such.

She drew the cup away from her mouth and sighed. Curses were much more fun.

The oak door behind her swung open, but she wasn’t exactly startled by the room’s new occupant – a being with only a jack-o-lantern for a head and dressed head-to-toe in black garments as if he was death itself. All she did in response was look up at him and raise an eyebrow inquisitively.

“The townsfolk are celebrating their annual festival as per usual,” he said, his voice sounding as if a hair brush was permanently caught in his throat. “Nothing new. Everyone’s just as self-conscious and shallow as always.”

She put her tea down on a stool by her seat and gave him a light smile.

“My dear Reaper, what did I tell you? These things take _time_. Soon or later we’ll find someone. I know it.”

A split second past before another word was uttered.

“Why don’t you just do it?”

She raised her eyebrow further, only this time there was a slight amount of rising severity behind it. The sort of look that says “ _speak if you dare, and if it isn’t worth my time, you won’t like what’s coming next.”_ Her servant was by now very accustomed to such a look and therefore knew it was time to elaborate.

“What I mean is that why don’t you display all your power right now? Why not just enslave all the miserable scum in that village with the might you seemingly hate to show anyone except a select few?”

She leaned back, making herself comfy and released a light, tinkling laugh that sounded as warm and friendly as a venomous cobra.

“You of all people should know, my dear Reaper, that I only find a “select few”, as you put it, _interesting_. If everyone is given what they desire, then everyone has a debt. If everyone has a debt, then there’s too much work for the Witch of the Wilds. If there’s too much work for the Witch of the Wilds, then no fun for the Witch of the Wilds either. Simple, really. I only choose those who I know are going to _shine_ in some way…you remember how I found you, of course?”

The Reaper unconsciously ran a hand over where his heart had since been in a previous life.

“Of course.”

She reached out with a gloved hand and gripped his shoulder. “You’ll find that friend of yours soon. And when you do, you can finally extract the revenge you wanted for so many years for him taking everything away.”  
“Of…course, Mistress.”

“You will not regret our bargain, Reaper. Trust me.”

He said nothing more, but simply nodded, the eyeholes trailing blades of fire as he did so. He drifted towards the door, but before he opened it she called out after him.

“Oh, and there’s a certain scientist you may or may not have seen; he’s not exactly hard to miss. Keep a special eye on him, will you? He just might prove…useful.”

 

*

 

“Jamie, stop fidgeting! We’re making good impressions with the townsfolk, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure darl, it’s just…I’m pretty cold right now.”  
Mei giggled, noticing her own breath from mist in front of her. She remembered the last time this had happened, in the graveyard before being chased by that Grave Keeper. It all felt like a million years ago now.

Junkenstein, on the other hand, felt he’d rather have another round with the Grave Keeper than show up at this party in such an outfit and under such weather conditions. He’d managed to round up a ragtag collection of scrap metal, weld them together, trim the edges and paint them gold and blue. He’d also found an old pair of trousers, tore those up as well and dyed them with a stripy sequence of black along legs of a similar deep shade. Perched on his head was a jester’s hat made from the same sheets of rugged iron he’d hurriedly painted in blue too – he wasn’t sure it had even dried yet – and attached to each end was a hollowed-out bauble. All topped off with a smear of white face paint and a smidge of pink around the lips to create his own style of signature clown. Personally, he originally thought he’d done rather well considering the time frame he’d had, but all of it seemed to have paled into significance when Mei sauntered out of her respective room (all too rightly) wearing two dots of paint on either cheek and a pair of false vampire fangs. But that wasn’t the only thing.

Her entire body was covered in a sort of ornate padding; a blend of rich purples, tied up with a light sky-blue collar adorned with a single green gem. Her hair was tied back in two separate braids; both now entirely jet black, while the front was covered by a strangely-shaped hat: it seemed to be a type of dome at the top, with a single ticket-like slip of paper dangling off it like she was attempting to hypnotise herself.

At first sight, Junkenstein felt slightly hypnotised by her too (again, he failed to understand exactly why) and therefore forgot to ask any questions. By this point he decided it was a better time than ever to inquire – what with them being stuck in a queue full of townsfolk in front of the entrance to his Lordship’s castle – as the moonlight beat down on his form, making him shudder.

“So anyway, darl, ya never told me exactly what it is you’re meant to, ya know, _be_ ” he began, as they shuffled forwards a few more inches.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn’t I?” Mei replied simply, yet the way she instantly began to grin told him she’d really just been waiting for the question to come up so she could explain in lengthy detail. “I’m a Jiangshi. A fabled vampire in Chinese legend. Originally I had absolutely no interest in dressing up, but then I thought about my parents and my heritage and everything…I just wanted to show these people there’s _nothing_ to be afraid of, you know?”

“There ain’t no point in tryin’ to do shit with these folk, darl. They’re about as close-minded as they bloody well get. But anyway, you were sayin’? About bein’ a Shang-shi?”

Mei laughed and his heart fluttered. “ _Jiangshi,_ Jamie. But that’s not the only reason! You see, Jiangshi have this thing where they…”  
And so she prattled on. Junkenstein had expected his attention to be diverted within the next ten minutes at the very longest, but he instead clung onto her every word like it was life-saving advice and didn’t stop until they reached the front of the queue. A pair of guards barred their path by crossing their scythes in a barrier in front of them.

“Just a routine check, madam and-“ one of the guards cut off when they saw who it was underneath the clown makeup, “- _sir_. We just need to make sure you aren’t carrying any weapons.”

Mei faltered for a moment, but it seemed nothing was going to ruin her mood. And if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for Junkenstein, even if he noticed the guard patting him down was being a bit more forceful than he should have been. The two nameless uniforms stood up from their respective target and nodded in unison.

“Everything’s fine. Enjoy the party” were the final words of greeting they received, standing aside and letting them cross the oak drawbridge. It was only for Mei’s sake that he didn’t retaliate when one of them shoved him from behind as they walked past. Unfortunately for him however, she did notice the slight stumble it caused.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” she asked, breaking off from her continuing speech on _Zangji_ or _Shangli_ or whatever the hell it was called.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m great” he replied simply, ignoring the slight snigger he could hear coming from behind. The black clouds of doubt started to hang over him again and the decorations of the castle’s main chamber did nothing to ease them.

Every previous time Junkenstein had been inside this chamber, it had been incredibly empty and cavernous, populated by a dull metallic throne and faded red carpets, surrounded by cold stone walls which didn’t have a single speck of heat to their name. On this occasion, however, the decorations were fiery orange and deathly black – streamers and tinsel adorned every once-rusted chandelier, the two ancient suits of crusader armour by the door had been decorated with fake spiders and cobwebs, and the Lord’s throne was dressed gaudily in spikes and fangs. Aside from a large, circular space in front of the Lord’s throne it also seemed that every square inch was covered by a single table with a white cloth and a lit jack-o-lantern on top.

“By, it’s warm!” he said a little too cheerfully, which was of course an obvious lie, “What say we sit down over here, yeah darl?”

He scanned the room for the table that was furthest away from the front, and eventually found it – one that was overshadowed by a balcony outside, its shadow spilling through an open window seemingly miles above their heads. Not to mention the jack-o-lantern was the most prominent source of light.

“What about over here, eh?” he said, forcing the exaggerated joy back into his tone, “it’s all dark and spooky and everythin’!”

Mei cast an appraising glance and he instantly recognised it as a signal of _“I-know-why-you-really-want-to-sit-here-you-know”_ , but to spare an argument she complied and moved over to the corner with him.

Once they were sat down, a particularly snooty waiter came over and handed them a bowl of grey liquid each. Junkenstein took a curious sniff and raised an eyebrow.

“Look, no kidding…” he began, “what is this?”

The waiter turned back to face him – no, _waitress_ , he corrected himself – and up close he noticed just how blue her skin seemed to be under the moonlight. She spoke with a delicate French accent which he swore she was putting on.

“It is mushroom soup, _monsieur_. Now if you would excuse me, I have other dishes to prepare.”

And without another word, she left so quickly she could have been on wheels. Junkenstein could only sit there with his mouth open, causing Mei to look up from her own soup and giggle.

“If you’re going to loll about with that jaw of yours like that Jamie, you could at the very least fill your mouth with food! Here-“she handed him a bread roll he hadn’t even noticed had arrived – “dip this in!”

Junkenstein took the bread roll to avoid looking awkward, but had no idea what to do with it. By now, he noticed, the entire village seemed to have been packed into this one hall, yet it wasn’t so tight it was uncomfortable or anything.

Maybe if he copied off what everyone else was doing…

They seemed to grab the bread…stick it in the soup…and then eat the bread. He went over these steps in his mind as he repeated the process, but either the soup was too weak or the bread too strong, as it wasn’t exactly a taste sensation. He decided to just bite the bullet and plunged a spoonful into his mouth, immediately regretting this decision as the rich aroma of the mushroom hit his taste buds. He coughed it all back up into his bowl, retching so loudly that those in the vicinity turned to glare. Mei was focused on him worriedly, her expression yet again saying it all. How the hell did she do it?

“Pigswill” was his comment of explanation, tearing the napkin out from under his bowl and wiping the corners of his mouth, “I’ve eaten dog food better than this.”

“Alright Jamie, you’re not being forced to eat it you know,” she hastily responded in a whisper, conscious of the dirty looks in their direction. He must have noticed them too, as he didn’t raise another word throughout the starter course and only grumbled a tiny bit when the main meal (steak with vegetables) was presented in front of them next.

By this point in time a small band entered the corner of the hall and began to play a slow, pulsating beat as the dreadlocked boy Mei recognised from earlier that day strummed a few cords on his wooden guitar. A guard rushed up and presented him with a microphone, which he most enthusiastically accepted, before speaking into it and promptly hushing the hall’s chatter.

“Hey, guys! My name’s Lucio and I’m going to be the entertainment for tonight! Here I have my fantastic drummer Hana-“ he gestured his other band member, the small Korean girl who was blushing furiously “- and we hope to give you guys a nice little beat to get started off with! Enjoy the rest of your meal!”

Junkenstein’s single solitary boo struggled to be heard from the roaring approval of the crowd, causing Mei to reach across the table and place a hand across his mouth to shut him up. He instantly knew he’d gone too far when he saw a look that seemed almost ridiculously angry, especially considering the severity of what he’d actually been doing.

“Do you _want_ to get beaten up, Junkenstein?” she hissed, the formal use of his name causing his stomach to churn. She was an entirely different person to the one he’d laid eyes on just thirty seconds ago.

“No, no, Miss – I mean, Mei, darl, you’re right” he turned back to his steak, which hadn’t even been touched yet. He instead to let it go cold, picking at it with his fork. “I’m sorry, I just – I don’t enjoy stuff like this.”

He looked back up again to see her back to her usual concerned self.

“Look Jamie, I’m sorry” was all she could honestly say as the band began to launch into a faster rhythm, Lucio swinging his hips to the tune, “if you want to go back, we could easily just slip out.”

“Nah, Mei, we’ll wait,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the now stone cold meat. “Besides, I-“

A scraping of chairs and flurry of movement rendered the last part of his speech inaudible, as everyone rose to greet his Lordship as he entered the hall by his throne. Mei quickly complied and motioned for Junkenstein to do so too, which he accepted without question.

Reinhardt was dressed in his usual armour, except it was now adorned with streaks of glow-in-the-dark blue, its neon stripes passing along where his ribs would be. The collar had been implanted with some form of light, which cast a similar unearthly shade over his face, rendering it almost completely stark white in comparison. He sat down and made himself comfortable upon the throne before the signature fatherly grin grew across his features.

“Well, what is all this standing around?” he laughed joyously, “dance! Drink! Be merry! Lucio, give these people music! They’re bored stiff!”

“Sure thing, Hammer-Man!” Lucio replied, before counting the first few bars of their next song. Junkenstein noticed Reinhardt chuckle lightly at this nickname and sourly remembered just how badly he’d been punished after giving him a nickname of his own.

This night really couldn’t be any worse…

Oh wait. Yes it could.

Junkenstein didn’t exactly believe in a God, as he often spent what few spare hours he had wondering why people weren’t worshipping _him._ But the late arrival of Jesse McCree seemed to prove once and for all that there was someone up on high having a good laugh at his expense right now.

McCree noticed them both from the entrance and lifted a hand in greeting before walking in the direction of the liquor table.

_Obviously wanting to booze himself up before flirting around, the poncho-wearin’ pig,_ Junkenstein darkly thought, _then he’ll be goin’ straight for-“_

His eyes twitched involuntarily at Mei’s relaxed form and her own pair did indeed seem to be set in the general direction of McCree.

_Fuck me, what do I do, quick-_

Then an idea struck him. Not quite as desperate or humongous a task as his monster, but still rather dangerous. Potentially life-threatening. He wouldn’t be able to walk away without injuries if it all screwed up. He hesitated as the same French waitress came to take his uneaten appetizer and only when he was sure she was out of earshot he swiftly blurted it out before he ended up second-guessing himself.

“Come dance.”

Silence. But at least her head turned back to its original position.

“Pardon, Doc – I mean, Jamie?”

_Jamie – there **is** hope!_

He desperately chewed his nail, waiting for his second bout of adrenaline.

“Come dance. Please.”

Mei’s first instinct was a polite refusal, but against her sense of better judgement and profound lack of dancing skills, she stood up and offered him her hand.

“Of course.”

Junkenstein opened and closed his mouth several times, having appeared to have lost the ability to speak.

“Wait, all I had to bloody do was ask? I mean, er, yes I will dance with you, Miss Mei. I mean Mei.”

He rose from his own seat and walked around the perimeter of the table to join her, linking his arm with hers.

“Allow me to escort you to the dance floor, my lady” he added, trying to sound as sophisticated as possible so as to mask the fact that he had no clue about couple’s dancing whatsoever. Mei simply let out a shrill giggle that almost made him jump as they passed everyone else’s seats to get the empty space in front of the throne. He’d originally been hoping that the handful of other couples already up there would mask what was bound to inevitably be a disastrous display, but no such luck, as they all seemingly parted to show them standing awkwardly in full view of the audience.

“So…what do we do next?” he asked somewhat lamely, surveying their surroundings and wondering whether it was too late to go back to their table already. Rather than reply with words, Mei began extending her left arm to the side and swinging her hips in its direction before switching round.

“This is one of the only dances I remember from the childhood,” she shouted over the now incredibly loud music, “it was called the sunshine dance.”

“Uh…alright…” Junkenstein tried to cover up his stupefied reaction and decided to try and balance himself on his peg leg. Even this seemed to be too strenuous a physical task, however, as he immediately began to wobble and the prongs on his jester’s hat swung in front of his eyes. Grasping at the air, his arms moved up and down like the wings of a demented bird as Mei gave an encouraging nod.

“Yes Jamie, now you’re getting it!” she cried, making her own moves faster and faster as Lucio launched into a full-on solo. Despite the pressing urge _not_ to fall over on his arse, Junkenstein maintained his own set of random motions and began expanding upon them. Feeling the air rush around him, he swapped legs and spun in a complete circle on his organic one. The rest of the noise seemed to drown out as he closed his eyes and continually spun, ignoring everything else. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the blurred form of Mei become closer and closer, until he was near enough to grab her by her arms and pull her into the fray. The rush in his body and the accompanying laughter from Mei just left Junkenstein without a care in the world as they endlessly went around in circles, oblivious to everything else.

Of course, when they finally let go of each other, they did fall on their backs, but all both took the time to ignore the numb pain and instead sit there panting and grinning at each other like idiots. All the other dancers were walking back to their seats, leaving only them under the judgemental eyes of the entire town.

_Let them judge_ , Junkenstein thought, _I just danced with the prettiest Sheila in the bloody wide world._

“My friends, I am glad to see these two people are having fun on our dance floor,” began that tone he was so used to hearing. Reinhardt had stood up and started speaking again. “Again, I invite all of you to just head out and avoid being shy. If our very own Doctor can do so, why can’t anyone else?”

_Yeah, that’s right. Respect._

“Of course, I do believe there are certain…rules that are required should you wish to even _enter_ my castle, much less…ah… _dance_ in front of my throne.

A unanimous bout of simpering laughter was the first thing Junkenstein could hear over his own skyrocketing pulse as he slowly lifted himself off the floor, offering his hand out to Mei.

“I’m sure you’re all aware that I do not allow criminals in my presence. Particularly those who dare to desecrate the village we try so hard to conserve and then promptly lie and deny any involvement only a day after.”

Junkenstein rubbed the sweat from his brow, feeling the white face paint begin to run. As he took his hand away, he noticed that Mei suddenly looked very shocked and worried about something. Why? Had the reality of how crap his moves had been just started sinking in? Well, she seemed to have been enjoying it only minutes ago…

“These people must therefore receive equal punishment. If you humiliate us, we humiliate you. Heed this warning, Miss Zhou and Mr Junkenstein.”

_I mean, I know I was crap and all, but she was laughin’ and joinin’ in and everything – hang on a minute, what did he just say?_

Junkenstein briefly noticed Mei put a hand over her mouth as she began to fiddle around desperately, evidently waiting for a guard to seize her or run her through with a spear. But nothing happened and the entire hall remained so silent he could have sworn they were the only ones even breathing.

_He just said our names. Crap, are we in trouble? I didn’t hear what he just said to u-_

A noise clanking metal above their heads caused them both to look up and what happened next almost passed by in slow motion.

A large pig trough that had been suspended on the ceiling with all the other decorations - inconspicuous in similar black and orange attire – slowly keeled over and its contents fell towards the dance floor in a flourish of chunky yellow and brown mixture. Junkenstein could only seem to open his mouth and thus got a gob full of it for his troubles when the smelly load splattered all over the two of them, coating both of their outfits in rancid food and raw sewage. Not a single part of his body was spared. Every finger and part of his hat dripped endlessly as his brain rushed to take in what happened. He was absolutely coated in God knows what and it _hummed._

A stifled sniffle caught his ears and he diverted his eyes from the now empty trough on the ceiling with the full knowledge that what he was about to see was something he really wouldn’t want to. Mei had also been caught in the blast, with roughly the same impact. Her sleeves were now weighed down with the disgusting liquid, and she was refusing to look anywhere but the floor.

Silence.

Then the entire hall burst out laughing, pointing their fingers and throwing their leftover food at them. Junkenstein had always had to endure things like this in the past, but it was too much for Mei and she started to run for the exit, sliding all over the place due to her shoes being coated. Even halfway across the hall, Junkenstein could now see tear trails shining at him through the splotches of mud and rotten meat. He desperately tried to go after her, ignoring the amount of cruel insults and cold dessert being tossed around and managed to grab her shoulder just as she was through the door.

“Mei, darl, _please_! I’m so sorry; I didn’t know they had a trough or anythin’! Honestly darl, I just – “

With ferocious roughness, she pushed the hand away and only spared him a single glance which wrenched at his insides and held them tight.

She didn’t shout. She didn’t scream. She just said it in a small, barely audible voice which somehow made it even worse.

“Just leave me alone, Jamie” was all she replied with before continuing to run past the snickering guards and into the darkness. The mocking laughter cut straight to him as he turned to face them all, devastated. Some were still pointing. Others made crying motions or ridiculously exaggerated pouty faces. He spotted McCree, still by the liquor table. He wasn’t laughing, but was instead intently staring at the bottles on display, obviously not wanting to be accossiated with it whatsoever.

“Justice has been done” came the Lord’s voice eventually, raising a hand and causing the entire congregation to fall silent. He sat back down his throne as he smiled lightly, obviously daring him to say something.

_Alright then, your “Lordship”. Let’s fucking say something._

“One day,” Junkenstein shakily said over the noise, raising a single mechanical arm as he fought the urge to smash something, “you’ll be sorry. You’ll see. One day I’ll have every single one of you down on your knees and bloody well begging for mercy! **_There’ll be blood on the streets and maybe then, just maybe, you’ll get it through ya skulls and finally appreciate my genius! Every fucking person in this entire fucking town will regret the day they laughed at Doctor Jamison Junkenste-“_**

A keg of beer was flung directly off his face and with a crack he recoiled painfully as the tumult grew again. He screamed through gritted teeth and ran off in the same direction Mei had, the raucous noise still ringing in his ears even after he’d cleared the drawbridge and was back in the village square.

 

*

Catching his breath and holding his side, he eventually leaned against the locked doors of Lena Oxton’s bar and sat doing nothing but listening that same continuous dripping of the rancid load.

“Fuck me…” was all he could say, examining his leg as the joints lightly sparked due to the liquid running through it all. He looked upwards at the starry sky and crawled over to a nearby bench where it looked like some things hadn’t been cleaned up since the night before – there were still one or two empty glasses scattered around and a single knife, most likely left by a traveller. Never in all his life did he think he’d ever be as washed-up as the drunkard regulars he’d witnessed her before.

_Life._

Of course. Why the fuck was he sitting here watching stars? What was he, mad? No! No, of course he bloody wasn’t! It was time to go back to his lab, wake up his creation and he’d have at his hand a being of unspeakable evil. _Special,_ that damned geriatric of a Lord had wanted it to be. Oh, it would be special, alright.

He steadily stood up for what felt like the fiftieth time and turned around to head back towards the manor ( _Mei’s_ manor, he painfully reminded himself), before a rather familiar fist came swinging in from below him and the last bone holding his nose together cracked. As he went down, a boot plunged itself into his stomach and the other boot his shin. He cried out and got a split lip as a reply. Through the haze of brown and red clouding his view, he could make out a Viking helmet and a very signature scowl.

Junkenstein couldn’t take it. Everything was too hot, too bright all of sudden, flecks of spittle sprayed onto his face as his clothes continually dripped sewage…he needed to get away.

He reached and grabbed an object from the bench he’d just been sitting upon, but Torbjorn stood on his wrist as he brought it towards himself.

“Talking to his Lordship like he deserves no respect, are you? Well, I’ve got news, you stringy noodle! No-one respects you either, Junker, understand? So you’d better get it into your head that this is me on good terms right now. If I ever see so much as a single _thread_ of that stringy hair ever again, the leg and arm won’t be the only things you’re missing!”

Junkenstein could only manage a gargling noise in the back of his throat. Blood entered his mouth as he spluttered helplessly. Torbjorn backhanded him, grabbing his collar to stop him falling backwards unconscious.

“Everyone sees you for what you really are. Even that landlady, by now. What was her name, Mei or something? She’s an idiot for trusting you, sure, but by now I’m sure she’ll have come to her senses. You’re both just limp little _freaks_ who like to think they’re important. _Nothing more_.”

A single resonating impulse squirmed its way to the front of Junkenstein’s thoughts amongst all the others that were mainly focused on keeping himself alive. He grabbed the object, barely able to see it through all the pain, before punching Torbjorn in the stomach with it with a final yell of defiance. Torbjorn stopped dead halfway through winding up another punch and frowned, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened. Junkenstein braced himself for death by an even angrier retaliating impact, but his eye was caught by something red and glistening seeping from the hit area. The object hadn’t even fallen to the floor. It was sticking _out_ of Torbjorn, letting that crimson liquid flow freely down to the ground from his torso.

He hadn’t picked up a beer glass. It was the knife.

Junkenstein looked upwards, his eyes slowly clearing, to see Torbjorn blankly looking into his eyes, the expression now one of bewilderment and terror similar to his own. He grabbed the knife handle and slowly slid it out. Torbjorn’s grip loosened somewhat on his collar as he staggered a few feet.

_He called you a freak._

Junkenstein stopped. He _had_.

_He always calls you a freak._

True. Never by his real name.

_Always. Every day. He should suffer for this._

Junkenstein looked at Torbjorn, who had seemingly completely forgotten about him and was now clutching the wound in futile attempts to stop the flow, having had steadied himself on a bench whilst gasping madly. Junkenstein was a good enough doctor to know that there was only a few minutes of life left in him.

No need to let him die peacefully, though.

He gripped the handle harder before standing up shakily, striding over and stabbing him in the same area, this time with more malice. A small squeal left the blacksmith’s lips as the blade caused the once-steady flow to instead splatter all over the wooden top.

_Again._

He drew it back out again, much faster than before, and plunged it back in. Blood now poured freely from many other places of Torbjorn’s body, including his mouth.

_Again again again again-_

Gallons and gallons of white hot rage built in Junkenstein repeated the process over and over, each one more ferocious than before. He honestly didn’t know the human body could _hold_ that much blood.

_AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN-_

His arm screamed at him to stop and eventually he was forced to give in to the intense pain his muscles were causing him for cramp and strain. Clutching it, he looked up to see Torbjorn’s lips move slightly in a final attempt to speak, before they shuddered to a halt and everything was still once again besides the steady sound of blood drops resonating around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, it's going DOWN. Hope you guys enjoy this, it took me a phenomenal amount of time to stick it up and even now I'm not sure if this is as satisfying a turning point as I originally hoped it would be. But spam me with those comments, good or bad, as I love to see where you guys think this is going next or how you may want to influence the story in some way. Because now there's the Witch and the promised major character death and EVERYTHING.


	9. Deals with the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't exactly your standard business deal. After all, offering people favours didn't usually involve dark magic and people dressed as witches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's three new chapters, which I hope you can accept as an apology for me not updating in a while. I could have sooner, except I was on holiday and there was no internet connection. But enough of that - let's see how Junkenstein's going to out of brutally murdering a man...  
> As always, leave a comment to help motivate me (or criticism, I'd love to hear potential improvements!)

_FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK-_

Junkenstein barrelled into his lab, slamming the oak door behind him. He’d just spent the last half hour sawing up the body and stuffing the parts into a coal sack that was lying by the trapdoor to the pub’s cellar. He tossed the sack into the corner without a care in the world as to what it knocked over, ignoring the loud smashing noise from behind and focusing on his creation. He had to get the damn thing up _now_. Not only did he need every piece of shit in that town dead by daylight, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that Torbjorn was gone, put two and two together and pointed fingers at everyone’s favourite punching bag. He quickly ran to the lever he’d installed in the wall, meticulously checking every metal camp that connected the monster’s chest to his electrical apparatus out of sheer panic.

“That plugged in there…these things switched on…metres charged…” he muttered to himself, practically tasting the anticipation on his breath. He straightened up to wipe his brow, only to remember he was still wearing his sodden party outfit. The thing still smelled awful, but he just ripped the jester’s hat from his head and wiped the majority of his face paint away with the back of a sweaty hand, leaving the rest of it on. He didn’t have time to get changed. The blood of just one person wasn’t enough. The walls would be painted with it. The sewers would run red; people would be able to smell its iron-like scent from half a mile away, then everyone will realise what happens when you dare to cross Dr Junkenstein and Miss-

_Mei._

In his haste, he hadn’t spared the titular woman a single thought over the last hour. But once the memories painfully reaffirmed themselves in his mind, the visual image of her ruined face just caused the river of hate to finally burst its banks.

Seizing the adrenaline, he grasped the lever with a million times more force than necessary and slammed it down. Instantly, a high-pitched hum of crackling electricity shot through every wire, passing through the generator and hammering directly into the monster’s body, which shook and recoiled like mutant-green jelly. Only when the slight smell of burning reached his nose did he ease his grip and eventually switch the flow off. He waited for the blue flashes to disappear from his line of sight before admiring his handiwork.

Nothing.

The thing didn’t move an inch.

“Maybe, it, uh, maybe it just needs _more_!” he assured himself fiercely, before slamming the lever downwards with double the original energy.

Sparks flew in just as rapid a succession as his last pull, but even the charge itself seemed less convinced that it was actually doing anything at all.

_Nononononono-_

He slammed it on and off in a violent pattern, his hair flying and sewage flicking off in grotesque chunks as he did so.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He’d _failed_.

The strength seemingly vanished from his legs as he collapsed onto his knees, burying his head into his gloves. He couldn’t even summon a wail. It was like he had absolutely no emotion left whatsoever. A shattered fragment of glass by his boot threw his own worn reflection back at him, an empty skeleton who knew all too well that there was just no point carrying on any more.

The most he could summon was a sigh.

“Disappointing, really. I had such hopes for this project of yours, Doctor.”  
And just like that, everything suddenly returned to his mind and the feeling reinstated itself in his body as a sharp, cold voice rang out behind him. He tentatively stood up, straightened his coat and turned to face the intruders. It was only out of past experience that he didn’t have a heart attack.

Intruder number one was a fair-haired woman was cold blue eyes and a single silver earring. Her hat was long and pointed like it had been torn straight from a fantasy novel and she wore a brown dress and boots that had apparently been fashioned from leather or a similar material. Junkenstein had to shut his eyes and open them again to ensure intruder number two wasn’t a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep, due to the sheer weight of the fact that he had a carved jack-o-lantern for a head. Flames bellowed from the neckline of his vampire-like hood, licking the sides of the pumpkin surface yet refusing to burn or harm it whatsoever.

The silence was deafening.

“Uh…hello.”

“Shut up” came a gravelly voice from the pumpkin’s carved grin, which sounded annoyed rather than happy, “use what little respect you have left when addressing the Witch of the Wilds.”  
“Uh…okay.”

The woman tittered and waved her companion back a few steps.

“Reaper, darling, could you leave the poor man alone? I need to explain things to him first. If he refuses, we can use more persuasive means later.”

The way this woman spoke quite clearly told Junkenstein that “more persuasive means” wouldn’t just be sticking the word “please” on the end.

“Right, listen whats-ya-name; before ya start scammin’ me or whatever, I think ya ought to know that I ain’t in the mood for anyone’s shit tonight, alright? I’ve just been publically humiliated at a party by those goddamn monkey-faced townsfolk and I’m tryin’ to release my own patented beast on ‘em. Not to mention I kinda just stabbed a guy, so –“

He slapped both hands over his mouth to shut himself up upon realising he’d just verbally admitted to first degree murder. To his amazement, however, the blonde woman couldn’t look less bothered.

“Oh, I understand, Mr Junkenstein. Everyone has a little murder now and then. But that’s all beside the point. Me and my esteemed colleague here have a bit of a proposition for you.”

Something suddenly hit him out of the blue.

“Woah, woah, hold on a damn sec!” he stuttered, “How in the bloody hell do ya know my name?”

The woman responded in no way other than rolling her eyes and waving her hand. An empty glass jar on the desk opposite them shuddered violently until there was a light _pop_ and in its place was a tawny brown rat.

“B-bu-what?” he stammered, as the rat began chewing on the edge of one of his zomnic blueprints.

“Usually I quite enjoy the pleasantries Mr Junkenstein, but I’m on a bit of a tight schedule tonight. Also, I don’t really like you that much, either. So here’s the truth: I’m a three thousand year old Witch who appears to…shall we say…those in need and offers them what they deeply desire. And right now, you seem quite needy indeed.”

Junkenstein let those words sink in. Somehow, for some unexplained reason, this wasn’t in the least bit surprising.

A witch.

A three thousand year old one, at that.

Okay.

“Well, ya concern is touching ma’am, but I’m just fine on me own” he said finally, deciding it was high time he got up off his knees and face them on his feet. His prosthetic leg squeaked pathetically in disagreement. “So now can ya get the hell out of my house.”

The Reaper made a sudden step forward and he immediately made a scrabbling effort to move the same distance backwards. Much to his humiliation, he fell on his arse again.

“Yeah, well I meant to do that ya know-“he tried, but was cut off by what the Witch had placed in her hands before him.

It had the basic structure of any crystal, except it seemed to contain its own natural smoke machine. A green haze emanated from within and once or twice a single sliver of neon green would circle the entire thing before vanishing into nothing. As he moved his head closer to look at it, he could make out a certain humming noise, almost as if it was talking to him.

“Nice…thingy you got there” he tried, internally disgusted at how unprofessional he sounded. But the Witch only gave a light laugh that no real joy behind it.

“Behold, Doctor. This is what you seek. One spark of life to go. Naturally sourced via my own abilities. This is the true item you’ve been missing the whole time and believe me when I say that this will solve all your problems.”

Junkenstein hesitantly took it, waiting for her to suddenly wave her finger again and unexpectedly turn him into a frog or other unattractive lifeform. The crystal ( _spark_ , he reminded himself) was a lot heavier than it looked for being able to fit into the conjoined palms of his hands, but up close he could see the unknown force radiating from it. It was breath-taking in all honesty and he could watch it to.

 _Just as if they want me to,_ the rational part of his brain reminded him.

“Alright, this is real nice of ya and all,” he spoke up, dragging his eyes away from the enchanting object, “but there’s no way in hell that anyone, let alone some voodoo witch or whatever, helps me just out of the kindness of their heart.”

The Witch let out another one of those laughs, which seemed to contain just as much danger.

“Yes, you’ve rather hit the nail on the head there, Mr Junkenstein. I do have one teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy little request if you accept this gift.”

He dared to raise a single cynical eyebrow.

“Aye?”

“At some point in the future I will ask you for one single favour. Just one, that’s all.”  
The Reaper stood forward to make himself known again.

“And whatever that favour is, you must honour it” he added, “To the letter. Otherwise you will die a very, _very_ gruesome death. That’s always the fun part. The gruesome, horrific, drawn-out way they-“  
“Yes Reaper, that’s enough”, the Witch cut across. Her assistant seemed to be coming more and more confident as time passed and she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to have him _replaced_ in any way. Besides anything, it would just be inconvenient and boring. “But I digress, Doctor. Do we have a deal?”

Junkenstein swallowed his pride, yet every sensible thought in his body was screaming for him not to trust this woman.

“If you don’t want revenge for what they did to you, Mr Junkenstein, then don’t you at least want revenge for what they did to Miss Mei? I believe you two were very close.”  
She knew about Mei.

Of course she bloody did.

“Yeah. Yeah, I agree to ya terms” he managed despite the tremendous amount of effort it took. Somewhere outside, thunder clapped loudly. He waited for her to turn into an evil hag and damn his eternal soul to hell or something, but she did nothing of the sort. She simply nodded before she and her companion took a few steps back and they climbed backwards onto one of his benches as if it was some form of front-row seat.  

The Witch motioned to the silent body of the monster with a polite cough. Junkenstein tried his best not to look at her bare thighs that slipped out from underneath her robes as she moved herself into a sitting position.

“I couldn’t bear to miss the fun, my dear Doctor. Will you do the honours?”

Junkenstein offered no response, but instead turned back to his electrical panel. He unhooked the cables and instead linked them to the spark, ignoring the slight fizzing noises as he did so. He then hefted up the spark and placed it directly upon the area where the monsters heart would be before grabbing the lever one more time and looking back in the Witch’s direction. Her expression remained flatly unreadable.

Junkenstein closed in his eyes and prayed to the God he didn’t believe in.

He pulled the lever.

The spark of life grew brighter and brighter as thousands upon thousands of volts coursed through it and the monster’s entire body started to rapidly shake with energy. Neon beams began peeking through holes that were forming as parts of the spark began to fall away until those parts became chunks and those beams became streams of pure, uncontained power. All the while the spark grew brighter and brighter, its glow emanating more and more until Junkenstein’s eyes couldn’t possibly look at it any longer. Shielding his face with his glove, he began to fret.

Even by his standards, this was insane. These beams, whatever they were, could possibly kill him. He had to shut off the supply as otherwise there’d be an inevitable power surge and the spark would –

Contrary to the _boom_ that he thought he was bound to hear, there was a soft _whump_ as the spark exploded in a final flurry of green, flecks being sprayed everywhere like miniature ghosts.

 

*

 

Junkenstein reopened his eyes to the low drone of machinery powering down and an unexpected bout of seeping sunlight. Obviously the panel had died and there was no hope of any more electricity being sent through it. It was completely bust and could only spark weakly.

_Spark._

He rubbed a sore spot on the back of his head he hadn’t even noticed until now and realised something rather odd. Had he been knocked out or something? He was fairly certain he’d just closed his eyes once something blew up…that was it, when the spark blew up. The spark that the Witch and the Reaper had given him to bring his monster to life.

Not a single shred of evidence that such an event had taken place surrounded him the previous night.

The two intruders were gone, leaving behind only the bench they’d been resting upon. There was no magical green crystal in his sight, leaving his dull, murky room as dull and murky as ever.

He’d been dreaming, that was all. He’d collapsed into a semi-coma from too much time without sleep. Wouldn’t be the first occasion, either.

“Still, it was a fairly hopeful dream”, he murmured to himself sadly, noticing how croaky his throat had become. He scanned the room one last time, but it was the usual shit.

There was his crappy workbench, there was his crappy desk, there was his crappy table with his crappy lamp by the crappy fireplace, as well as the crappy metal slab that no longer had his crappy monster lying on it-

He frowned.

_Hang on a tick. What?_

Something caught in his throat as he diverted his eyes back to the completely deserted metal slab. A seven foot body had somehow seemingly evaporated into thin air, leaving no trace of its existence. At least that was the only logical explanation he could think of at the moment.

Junkenstein knew from personal experience that he certainly wasn’t the heaviest sleeper and henceforth acknowledged the fact that there was no way someone could have broken in and carried the body out of his lab without causing a whole lot of disturbance in the process. Either a superhuman being had lifted up a body roughly the size and weight of a baby elephant or…

“Or it got up and walked away,” he finished the thought out loud. Neither option really made him feel overly optimistic, so he began to back away towards the door that led down to Mei’s section of the house. He wasn’t sure if she was really back into a talking mood yet, but if a beast he deliberately created to kill was just wandering around the manor, it was in the interest of both his and her safety that he warned her about it.

He stretched out a hand for the doorknob while keeping his eyes on the slab, but it instead came into contact with something soft and squishy. Something that kept moving in and out. Almost as if it was breathing.

Fighting the urge to vomit, he craned his neck and looked to see what he was currently touching.


	10. Learning Experiences (For More Than One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkenstein could have fainted with pride upon seeing the result of his toils. It was just a shame that said result seemed unable to speak a word of English and could only communicate in grunts. It was, to be brutally honest, fairly irritating.

It was _huge._

His beast was always designed to be big, but when standing, its entire outfit simply radiated sheer strength. The dials and valves he’d planted into its body looked more like lethal weapons than safety precautions and if he hadn’t felt so proud of this accomplishment, Junkenstein knew he would have been wetting his pants in fear.

“Hiya, mate!” he practically shouted despite the monster standing only half a metre away from him. There was a pain in his neck from where he was straining to look it directly in the face – well, mask – but he honestly couldn’t have cared less. “Welcome to the world! I’m ya creator, Doctor Jamison Junkenstein! And you are-“

He stopped halfway through his television host-like rant. Shit, he’d forgotten to give it a name. Not that it seemed to have bothered the monster, who just continued to stand there and stare at him, almost as if slightly bored by proceedings. He stared blankly at the pig’s face stretched over its true features and decided on the spot.

“Hog!” he decided. The monster could have been dead again for the amount of response he received in turn. High time he elaborated, then. “It’s nice, it’s catchy, sounds pretty tough and all. That’s why ya exist, anyway. You, my mate, are an unstoppable killing machine! The one and only Hog!”

Silence.

“So anyway, you’re a male. Think you are. Can’t remember what parts I put in those…areas…if ya could speak or somethin’, that would be swell.”

Silence. It was starting to become slightly irritating.

“You can _talk_ , right?”

The monster continued to look at him through the eyeholes of the makeshift mask. He could almost feel the mismatched colours of both irises boring into his own.

“Alright, so ya ain’t on the social side” he spouted on, desperate to fill a potentially awkward atmosphere, “but then again, can’t say I’m renowned for my popularity or anythin’ either! So how are things? In life, I mean? Just nod or something if things are good for ya so far.”

He wasn’t too sure what to expect; after all it had only been alive for a maximum of a few hours. But Hog shifted his head in a slight movement that could definitely be interpreted as a nod, however hesitant or uncertain it appeared. It’s ridiculously large mouth opened and released a drawn-out moan as it raised a hand and lifted it up to Junkenstein’s head, touching his messy strands of hair.

Junkenstein wasn’t sure whether he was trying to give a comforting pat on the head or was about to crush his skull in between his dexterous fingers, but could only beam in pride. Look at that. It was almost like having a son, except for the whole “made-from-cadavers” business.

“But yeah,” he decided to finally say, giving the monster time to let out a slight grunt as it withdrew the grip on the top of his head, “you’re Hog. Come to think of it, wonder whether Miss Mei will want to see ya? Always been into animals, she has. I mean, she only has a cat, but I’m sure she’d be interested if science is one of her hobbies. That’s what she told me anyway. Back when we were…when we were, you know…talking to each other and all. Before that party.”

Realising he was drifting off a bit, Junkenstein quickly resumed his directionless rant.

“I digress. I’ve created ya to destroy the townsfolk f a town just a short distance from here, called Adlesbrun. May have heard of it. Actually, scratch that, you won’t have seein’ as how you’ve been dead and all. The plan is that- hey, where’re ya goin’?”

The monster had suddenly turned his back to him and walked over the stone slab, ripping off one of the hooks that was suspending it from the ceiling and rolling the attached length of chain around his arm.

“Hey, that cost money ya know!” Junkenstein shouted, but the monster paid him no attention as it strolled towards the door. “What the hell, mate? Ya can’t just stroll out the door and murder everyone this exact bloody _minute_!”

Apparently it thought otherwise, as it wrenched the door off its hinges and let it crash to the stony tiles below before striding out. Junkenstein could only speed walk along after it, given the size of its strides, all the while praying that Mei wouldn’t randomly appear in front of them. He really couldn’t think up an excuse as to what was going on right now.

Upon exiting the manner, a surprisingly bright sun shone down upon the odd pair as they walked down the mismatched steps and the following strip of dirt that led down to the village. All the while the silence was punctuated by the marching of heavy footsteps and Junkenstein’s shouting.

“Hey, hold up! Ya can’t just march in! They’ll kill ya on sight! Your thirst for revenge is kinda nice, I’ll give ya that, but we need an attack plan! Hold up! Hold! Stop! Goddamn it, how do ya domesticate a monster?”

In the midst of his yammering he’d failed to notice Hog actually _had_ eventually stopped, thus abruptly walking right into the back of him. When he eventually took a step back, rubbing his nose, he came out from behind to see what was blocking their path.

They were right on the outskirts of the town – in other words, the far end of the bridge. So many memories. Like being chased by a mad mechanical grave keeper. Good times. It all seemed so long ago now, what with it being an eventful evening digging up bodies with –

“Mei” he murmured to himself, but was thankfully interrupted from his morbid thoughts by Hog turning towards the riverbed and wading into the raging stream. Gallons of water sloshed around his shins, but he shrugged it off and kept on walking until they directly underneath the small brick structure. Not keen to lose his prosthetic leg again, Junkenstein took it a lot more slowly this time, but nevertheless managed to get to the same position. He slowly took a seat on a rock embedded into the flowing stream and got a wet backside for his troubles. Ignoring the cold sensation, he looked up at his creation expectantly.

“Well, what ya up to?” he asked, growing increasingly uncomfortable at Hog’s continuing refusal to utter a single word. “We just gonna sit under here like a couple of trolls, watching the travellers come by? Unless you wanna eat, which is pretty understandable, but cannibalism ain’t really my thing. Oh, I got it! Its shelter, ain’t it? You need shelter cos otherwise you’ll be roasting under the sun!”

Hog lifted a finger the size of a rolling pin and pointed to himself, then to the Doctor, then to the town walls.

“Ya want to get in there? Listen mate, as much as I hate to admit it, we need the zomnics before we can trash this town. And a few other of me old inventions, if the folk haven’t melted down the pieces, already. Heard the cowboy did quite a number on that Grave keeper – only good thing he’s really done for me so far.”

Hog shook his head and repeated these movements again, only this time adding an additional motion of pointing to his heart.

“Listen mate, killing with kindness is more of a metaphorical thing…”

Hog shook his head before grabbing him by the collar and giving a wide smack across the jaw.

“Ow!” he hollered, grabbing it as he was let go, feeling for the damage, “What in the bloody hell was that for, ya big lug?”

“There’s someone down there!” came a random voice from above them, accompanied by the sound of a horse’s hooves abruptly stopping and a cart’s wheels squeaking to a halt. Junkenstein froze on the spot, unsure of whether to run, looking to his monster for guidance.

Hog let out what seemed to be an irritated sigh as he walked over to the very edge of the wall, still ignoring the angry waters. The voices drew closer as Junkenstein could hear footsteps coming down the bank.

“You’d better have a good reason for stopping that cart, Steve. We really don’t want to be late if we’re delivering these to the town’s Lord.”

“Shut it, Jeff. I’m telling you, there’s someone down there. Could be an outlaw or vigilante we could capture and turn in for a reward. This town isn’t exactly renowned for its effective law enforcement, is it?”

“Last time I checked, it didn’t _have_ law enforcement.”

“Exactly. So imagine how thrilled they’d be if we did their work for them? We get paid; they get the pleasure of throwing someone in jail. It’s a win-win situation.”

“If you say so.”

Their footsteps signified that they were now only centimetres away from the edge of the river. If either took one more step, they’d see Junkenstein just standing there looking constipated.

Then one of them did.

“Hey!” one of them said, sounding more surprised than accusatory, “Who are you supposed to be?”

His companion sniggered slightly.

“It’s the lanky, white-haired cave troll, Steve.”

Steve started to snigger with him.

“What you doing so far away from your cave, little troll? I imagine it gets pretty draughty down here.”  
Oh, how Junkenstein wished he had a knife.

Jeff was now fighting to form a coherent sentence through his laughter.

“You know Steve, I bet he was probably looking for his wild toadstools and raw fish for his hibernation over wint-“

Jeff took one step further forward.

Big mistake.

A glint of steel flew past Junkenstein’s eyes, too quick to register until it landed around Jeff’s waist. The hook.

Jeff’s laughter died in his throat as he frowned and moved to look at what had hit him, but before he could do so he was wrenched forward and into Hog’s giant green palm.

 _“Steve!”_ was all he could manage to shout before the palm manoeuvred his head and smashed it against the brick wall with one almighty strike before letting go. Jeff slid limply into the river, the water lapping over his body. Junkenstein wasn’t sure whether he was unconscious or dead, but didn’t exactly care either.

“Jeff? What happened? Where’d you-“

The hook flew a second time, once again snagging the victim across the midsection.  But on this occasion, Hog grabbed both Steve’s arms and legs before slamming the shocked man’s body over his knee. The cracking noise was unmistakeable.

“Whoa…” Junkenstein could only stare; finding his footing again as he slowly approached his companion, who was suddenly breathing very heavily through the filters that had been sewn into his mask. “Mate…I’m a canny bit impressed! Consider me chuffed, well and proper.”

Hog paid his remark no attention except a low “ _hurm_ ” before wading back out of the river and onto the top of the bridge. Junkenstein threw the two bodies one last sneering glance and followed to see what he was up to.

 

*

 

The village square was finally clean and tidied after the incident before Halloween. Mei would have wanted to remember in more specific detail, but thinking about anything leading up to the party was just too painful. For the first time in what must have been years she was wearing her hood over her head and cowl across her face, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to be getting an overly warm welcome.

She made sure to stay at her feet as she walked past each of the square’s stalls, but hesitated upon noticing that the shop usually occupied by Torbjorn was shut for whatever reason. On one of the boarded windows was a single scroll of paper with his picture and the word “MISSING” across the top. Mei did feel some amount of sympathy for the man, but it was the shallow type that was discarded and put away easily.

She walked on.

The next stall was Lena’s, though Mei deliberately waited for her to be distracted with another customer before quickly taking a handful of apples, stuffing them into her coat and placing her money where the girl would find it before she was recognised.

She walked on.

Lucio had apparently opened up a music stall in place of an old one that had shut ages ago, though nothing interested her. That was except another poster on the wall.

It was a picture of Junkenstein with his signature Cheshire cat grin. Above the words “WANTED” were scrawled across in much more messy writing and the ink had barely dried – the poster had therefore only been hung up last night.

Mei could only stare for a few moments, not sure of what to feel. It was as if she barely knew the man.

Underneath where the words “POSSIBLE LINKS TO THE DISAPPEARANCE OF TORBJORN LINDHOLM”

Then the rush of emotions hit her and hit her hard.

Junkenstein couldn’t possibly have done anything to cause the man to suddenly disappear. He’d never struck her as the physical type and even if by some miracle he’d manage to restrain the blacksmith, what would he have done then? Killed him? He may have been a bit creepy at times, but she knew the Doctor well enough to confidently say that he was not by any means a cold-blooded murderer.

 _The same doctor who dug up bodies and built a living, breathing monster,_ her unsure side reminded her. She urged herself to silence it before she became too torn. Junkenstein had been a good, honest tenant and despite how he could seemingly talk for hours and hours without shutting up, it had been nice having someone just to remove the empty silence of the manor.

More than that, Junkenstein was a _friend_. And while she was many things, Mei could never call herself unfaithful.

She just had to find him first. This town would snatch him up the minute he entered the place and knowing how much the population seemed to despise him, there was no way in hell he was going to get a fair trial. She had to find him and get him somewhere else to live. It was the least she could do.

 _Yes, because he’d totally do this for us,_ came that unsure side again.

“Shut up,” she told it, not truly caring if anyone in her radius had heard, “what happened at that party wasn’t his fault. Quite frankly, I no longer care about anyone else here. I originally thought I had quite a few friends and they all laughed at me when I was covered in raw sewage. Everyone except for him.”

A rather familiar sound homed in on her ears over the din of the townsfolk walking back and forth around here.

_Squeak, stomp. Squeak, stomp. Squeak, stomp._

“Oh God, I can hear his peg leg. I’m falling victim to some form of mental disorder brought on by a life of isolation,” she almost whimpered, before calmly composing herself, “Stress, that’s all it is. Just like that jack-o-lantern in the graveyard. Just stress.”

“ _Pumpkins…pumpkins for sale…”_ came a business-like cry for somewhere behind her, another trader selling their stock. It struck her as particularly nasally and with a bit of a sly edge, as if the pumpkins were filled with cyanide or something.   _“Genetically modified…totally won’t poison you or anything…freshly robbed…”_

Well, that didn’t exactly fill her with confidence.

“Oh God. Schizophrenia. I’m imagining things and my brain interprets it as real.”  
“Nice definition there darl,” came a very signature voice from right next to her ear and she shrieked out loud. Luckily, everyone else was too immersed in their everyday shopping to care, “but I’m as real as they come, unfortunately.”

It still took her a worryingly long time to recognise him through his strange clothes.

“Jam-“she began, only for him to put a finger to his lips and wave for her to follow him and his tarp-covered cart (where the hell did he get _that_ from?) into a nearby back alley away from any unfriendly eyes. Once they were hemmed into the uncomfortable lane, blocked on both sides by the cart on one end and a row of bins on the other, the smile she’d somehow grown to love reappeared on his features.

“So, darl, how’s things?”

“I – Jamie – I – listen, I’m sorry for being so –“

He raised his mechanical hand again to signal for silence.

“Look, you were upset darl; I woulda done somethin’ similar in your position. But – wait for it – I’ve solved our problems! Hog’s alive! We’re finally gonna get revenge on this cesspit after all that!”  
Mei couldn’t help but frown at that.

“Hog?”

Junkenstein clicked his fingers and the tarp fell away from the top of the cart as the large creature she’d nearly been scared for her life by only days ago sat up and turned its head to look directly at her.

“Meet Hog, darl – the one-man apocalypse!”

The “One-man apocalypse” grunted something inaudibly in her direction and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh yeah, this is Mei by the way. Mei, Hog. Hog, Mei. Now we’re best friends!”

She wasn’t too sure about “best friends”, but she didn’t want another falling out after they’d only just made up.

“Alright then, “she continued, “question. Why in the name of sanity are you dressed like that?”

Junkenstein looked down at his new attire and laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard in his life.

“Well, ya see Darl, me and Hog found this ‘ere cart-“  
“Found?”

He hesitated for a second too long before sagging slightly.

“Stole.”

“Stole. Okay, carry on.”

“Well, we stole this cart and when I was hidin’ Hog, I noticed that it was filled with posters plastered with my face. Now, of course I’m a handsome bloke and all-“

Mei rolled her eyes, but at the same time couldn’t supress a grin.

“-but the posters weren’t too nice. Somethin’ about murderin’ Torbjorn, but it was more like manslaughter really, or self-defence or somethin’. Don’t know a whole lot about law. Anyway, I decided a disguise was apt and I nicked one of the owner’s clothes.”

“Hold on. So you _did_ kill a man? What the _hell_ , Jamie?”

“In self-defence darl, in self-defence!” he quickly stuttered, before realising something a bit strange. “Hey, you’re swearin’ for the first time.”

Mei tried to think up a way of forcing him to feel bad for killing Torbjorn, but, most unlike herself, she couldn’t come to do so. The man had been nothing but horrible to them and for the first time in her life, the only shame she felt was based upon the fact that she didn’t.

“Alright, Jamie. I buy your story. But why are you in here if you’re wanted? These people will gladly kill you! Come on, they’ve beaten you half to death a multitude of time before!”

Junkenstein lowered his voice considerably before replying, though the only one close enough to hear besides her was his monster.

“Hog wants ta show me somethin’. Not sure what yet, he won’t say anythin’. Well, he never says anythin’ even when he _doesn’t_ want ta show me somethin’, but ya get the idea. I’m kinda curious.”

Mei stole Hog a quick glance, who was now sitting on the edge of the cart, which creaked and groaned under his weight as he picked at something on his waistcoat. She squared her shoulders and decided it was high time she helped him again, regardless of the consequences. She’d been little to no help in the graveyard. She was determined to be a much bigger help here.

 _This isn’t you,_ her unsure side practically screamed; _this will only end in trouble._

It took all her willpower to ignore it.

“Lead the way,” was all she offered, to which his face scrunched up in confusion as a response.

“Darl, this could be a booby trap or somethin’-“

She grabbed him by his hand. His body stiffened in response, obviously not used to contact this personal.

“Look at me, Jamie. I’m confident. I want to help.”

She let a smile slip through.

“You don’t want to deny me this opportunity when I’m confident.”

Junkenstein’s own smile soon returned, to which her own just grew even bigger.

“Sure thing, darl. I like a girl who does things dangerously.”

He paused. Was he _flirting_? He hid the rising colour in his usually pale cheeks by turning his back to her and speaking to Hog a little louder than necessary.

“Alright, Hog! You lead the way!”

Mei decided it was best to raise her main concern first.

“Why are you in disguise and…ah…Hog, is it?” – the creature nodded – “ Yes, we are you in disguise and Hog isn’t?”

“Cos Hog’s not on a wanted poster, darl. Plus it ain’t like anyone’s clothes are really gonna fit him. Too conspicuous.”

“Yes, well on the other hand, we’re going to have a seven foot half-pig half-man creature leading the way as we walk through town searching for whatever he wants to show us. Which is _much_ less conspicuous, I’m sure.”

“Oh…”

“Yes, see the slight problem here?”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s an issue…”

“He can’t exactly direct us if he’s stuck under a tarp, not to mention if someone comes into this back alley…”

“Yeah. Oh dear.”

“Indeed.”

A heavy atmosphere threatened to fall. Hog had obviously decided that this was enough sitting around, as it was prevented by him lifting himself off the cart with a strained _creak_ , striding past the two of them and slamming the bins out of the way before striding out the other end of the lane, their protests falling on deaf ears. They could only stare after him.

“ _Hey! Did you park this here?”_ came the cry of an unknown voice from behind the cart full of posters. It sounded officious. Clear. A lot like a –

“Police officer!” both of them realised out loud at the same time, before turning to stare at each other. Mei could almost see the next sentence being formed in Junkenstein’s head, knowing what it was going to be. To her utter incredulity, she could feel the smile just growing bigger every moment.

“Good time to start runnin’, yeah?” he eventually blurted, proving her assumption correct. She was already way ahead of him, retaking his hand and dragging him along after her, the rush of the afternoon air hitting her face as they hurtled after Hog, Junkenstein continuing to speak wildly despite how she could barely here him.

“I mean, I know Hog’s an antisocial bastard and all, but ya gotta admit he’s got style…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang all together...or may it have gotten bigger by the end?  
> As always, comments please!


	11. There's A Ginger In The Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And to think this wasn't anywhere near the weirdest thing he'd seen all week.

The fabled Black Forest stretched the barren remnants of Adlesbrun’s past wars. The bare tree trunks jutted through every shattered window and tile-less roof. Moss grew over discarded guns, weapons and, much to Mei’s surprise, androids. This area wasn’t here to look pretty, but rather to hide away anything that made the town ashamed of itself.

They deserved to have every bit of it dumped right back on their doorstep.

Hog had led her and Junkenstein out of the other end of the town and into the deep foliage where even the sun seemed hesitant to enter, all the while doing nothing but stare directly ahead of himself. Every few paces she’d look behind herself to ensure they weren’t being followed, whether by hostile townsfolk or animals, but each quick glance came up fruitless. This was until what was roughly the fifteenth or sixteenth time, when she tripped over something very large and metallic. The impact itself wasn’t very damaging, but she ended up being face-to-face with an eye slit very similar to that of the Grave keeper. She shrieked and shoved herself away from it before her brain could even register what she was seeing.

“Hey darl, what’s the matter?” came Junkenstein’s voice from over her shoulder.

“Grave keeper...” Mei gasped, clutching her heart from the sudden shock, “It’s nothing, I just thought…”  
She closed her mouth and let herself gain a bit more oxygen, sure that he’d be able to piece together what she was trying to say.

“Oh, right” came that strangely understanding tone – if this was a few months ago, he’d most likely have been looking at her like she was absolutely daft. “Yeah, Bastion units. My first successful inventions. Peacekeepers and enforcers, they were. Then Adlesbrun started picking fights with another city a few hundred miles away – I think its name was Eichenwalde or something – so they were reprogrammed as war machines.”

Mei frowned. “When was all this?”

Junkenstein scratched his head in an attempt to remember.

“Think it was about twenty five years ago. I was about nineteen at the time.”

Twenty five years ago.

She was in her coma then.

“Right. I remember” she lied, looking back at the metal shell in case he noticed the sudden sadness in her facial expression. She searched for a way to steer the conversation out of these waters. “So what happened next?”

Junkenstein made his signature face of displeasure.

“What do ya think? They served their purpose and most got scrapped. That old cow Reinhardt kept a few for himself and I hid one away in the graveyard…” he trailed off as her eyes widened, “…oh. Didn’t mean to say that.”

“So what you’re saying is that the Grave keeper is essentially _yours?”_

“Look darl, I know what ya gonna say. So I’ll just get it over with: I forgot. Know it sounds lame, but I honestly just forgot. Most folk in the village believe the grave keeper to be some kinda myth, and I did too at the time. But then we go grave robbin’ and it pops up and tries to kill us. Some form of defensive protocol kicking in, most likely.”

Mei nodded in silent acceptance and the subject thankfully ended. Then she had a brainwave.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

“This is just an idea, but I’d love to see this happen.”

“Yeah?”

“All this-“ she motioned to the wreckage embedded in the trees around them, “- is a horrible way of disposing of your creations, not to mention what its most likely done to animal habitats. What if, just to rub it in a little bit further, you used this as part of your revenge? A bit of irony, if you will.”

Junkenstein’s beam was so large she was temporarily wondering whether he was about to eat his own face.

“Darl, that’s bloody _genius_! Hog, me, zomnics _and_ these things! God, you’re a beauty!”

And he kissed her.

On the lips.

He had to bend down to do so, but the sheer shock of what was happening prevented Mei from pondering how fast he’d moved. She immediately felt an urge to push away, embarrassed, yet it slowly melted away as she kissed him back. His face was rather cold pressed up against hers, but she highly doubted those clothes he’d stolen were very warm at all. Time seemed to slow dramatically. Despite the dingy light levels, she could see his face shining its pale magnificence-

_“Hurm”_

Junkenstein made a small choking noise and hurriedly withdrew to see Hog standing directly behind them both.

“Oi, ya sneaky bastard! Ya can’t just interrupt somethin’ like this on some hunch! Ya little expedition can wait, thanks very much!”

Mei giggled shrilly despite the rational part of her brain urging her not to. Hog let out a rumbling laugh that sounded more like an old boiler ready to burst. It was the most sound she’d heard him make so far.

“Yeah, well laugh all ya want! I can kiss Miss Mei! She didn’t exactly object did she?”

Mei stifled herself and decided to ask a formal question to cover up how strictly unprofessional she was being.

“How do you know what Hog’s saying?”

“I don’t. I can just kinda tell. Soulful bond, ya know?”

“Haven’t you only known him for about two days, if that?” she inquired, causing Hog to have another one of his wheezing fits.

“Yeah, but he’s special, ain’t he? Now then, Hog. If you’d like ta stop laughin’ and show us what was so bloody important, lead the way, will ya?”

Hog coughed slightly and continued marching forward as if that entire episode was already out of his mind. Mei took one last fleeting look at the Bastion unit half-buried in the muddy ground, with its bright fiery orange paintwork and cracked red visor winking at her as if sharing a cheeky secret, before following after the two of them.

 

*

 

McCree had no idea what he’d just signed up for or who the hell any of these people were. All he knew so far was that there was a decent amount of money in the mix and he was frankly tired of patrolling the same area in the woods for bandits. He wasn’t sure as to _exactly_ how much, but there’d been a hefty number of zeroes involved when that bartender Emily had waved the WANTED poster under his nose halfway through his third glass of gin.

And so he found himself surrounded by these oddities, directly facing Lord Reinhardt’s throne. The chamber looked more like a mausoleum with its dull grey walls no longer hidden behind the colourful Halloween decorations, though McCree decided not to spare it too much thought. He felt sorry for that Mei girl, but if there was one thing he’d learnt in his past life it was that you couldn’t hold onto anyone for too long or you’d get them killed. He was doing her a favour. Better a trough of garbage to the head than a bullet.

The guy next to him looked at least seventy, but the large gun he was cradling in both arms stopped McCree from making any snide remarks. However, he couldn’t help but scoff. People may have thought a poncho and cowboy hat was weird, but he wouldn’t be caught _dead_ wearing a letterman jacket. A pair of combat boots and tracksuit bottoms of a forgettable black shade completed the look, while a mask involving a mouth filter and horizontal red visor covered up his features – all McCree could make out was a single scar jutting from one side of his face to the other.

The next fellow along was just as mundane-looking. Dressed in some sort of robe, with flowing hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. Not the kind of face you’d remember, but if this guy was in the business where bounty hunting was second nature, that was more of an upside than anything else. And what with the bow and quiver slung across his back, it was highly likely he was.

The only female of their strange quarter was most likely Middle Eastern, from Egypt or somewhere like that. One eye was evidently missing, having been covered with a leather eyepatch and her clothing was obscured by another robe, though it was decorated with a few blue decals here and there. She looked harmless enough, but McCree doubted that the robe was just there for decoration and not hiding a multitude of dangerous weapons.

“So what’s the story behind you guys?” he asked, his voice echoing all too loudly around the chamber. As the woman turned he could see her wrinkles. She was old, but not as old as the man.

The archer threw him a scornful look, but no-one answered.

So it was going to be one of those days.

Unfortunately, any further chances of deliberately pissing them off were dashed once the Lord entered and sat down on his throne. He looked like he’d just been to a funeral.

“Now, normally I do not allow mercenaries in my town, but things are dire. My good friend and trusted helper Torbjorn Lindholm has gone missing only a few nights ago.”

“So this is a rescue mission?” asked the old dude, cricking his neck. His voice sounded like he was talking through mouthfuls of cat litter.

“No, no. I already fear he may be dead, considering a rather ominous threat the entire town received from a deranged lunatic called Jamison Junkenstein. We had punished him and his companion Miss Mei-Ling Zhou for an act of vandalism they had committed, making this an entirely unprovoked bout of verbal assault. I want you all to find him, stop him and bring him in before it becomes physical.”

The archer shifted slightly. “Dead or alive?”

The Lord was silent for a few seconds. “Either.”

The archer only offered a simple nod in reply.

“Why’s the reward so big if we’re only chasing after a simple man?” piped up the old guy, asking the question that was going around McCree’s own head as well. His tone was sharp and his sentence simple, but there was no denying the cynicism in his voice.

“Dr Junkenstein is insane. It has taken a long time to admit such a thing to myself, but I can no longer ignore the facts. He was once my chief professor, working to create inventions to benefit the town. While they failed on this level, he could easily use them for more dangerous purposes. Do not underestimate him.”

“Yeah, I make it a point not to assume insane fellas are gonna come quietly,” McCree offhandedly mentioned, “most of the time they’re just gonna grab a blade and run screaming at you.”

Again, no-one bothered to reply. Everyone else was either too pompous or too focused to answer.

“And one last thing” Reinhardt added, as the old guy and the archer turned around to leave, “I do not want angry killers on my hands if one of you gets to Junkenstein before the other. Therefore, I am splitting this bounty between all four, regardless of whether it was a group effort or not. I therefore highly recommend you act as a team.”

On a team with these squares. Brilliant.

McCree tipped his hat as a final statement before following the three others out of the doors and into the bleak afternoon. This was going to be interesting.

 

*

“Hog. Hog! It’s a bloody push door! Ya push it, not pull it!”

_*grunt*  
_ “No, I am not wrong! Ya – no, ya don’t immediately push it! Ya gotta hold down the latch and undo the bolts at the same time! Look, it ain’t hard, just lemme-“  
_*grunt*_

“Oi, no need to shove! It’ll be easier if me or Miss Mei does it!”

“I’ve told you before Jamie, there’s no need for the “Miss” part. You can talk to me as informally as you like.”

“I know darl, just old habits and all – _Hog, what are ya doin’ with that tree trunk?!”_

The flimsy oak door was smashed off its hinges from Hog’s makeshift battering ram as splinters flew everywhere.

“Now look what you’ve done, ya bloody drongo! I’m already a wanted fugitive! Now they’ll hang me for sure, what with breakin’ and enterin’!”

Hog looked down at his feet in a mimed show of sheepishness.

“Well, whatever. Let’s just go in and see whatever it was ya wanted me to – bloody ‘ell.”

Hog had led them to a small cabin in the middle of the forest, away from the carnage of the war. From the outside it just looked dull, what with its roof of branches and mud alongside walls of simple red brick. But what was especially confusing was that it wasn’t even supposed to be there. No towns or houses had ever been built in the Black Forest and the land predated Adlesbrun itself. Someone was purposefully hiding here. The only real question was why.

Inside, a roaring fire burned away despite there being no-one to tend to it. Every spare inch of wall had some form of bookshelf on it, adorned with musty textbooks that looked like they hadn’t been opened in a good century or more. A row of hay bales lined the entire cottage, covered by quilts and bedsheets strung together in no particular order, all to make room for a giant pewter cauldron in the centre.

“Blimey…” was all Junkenstein could come up with as he crept in and peered into the cauldron. It was, as he expected, completely empty and dry as a bone. Nobody had used it in a while.

Mei examined the rows of textbooks. Some were in French, some in Chinese, while others were just bizarre.

“A history of curses and prophecies…cures for all magical maladies…mortals and their purposes upon the earth…” she read to herself. This was a strange sort of obsession for a person to have. Some overly-enthusiastic dark arts believer banned from town, perhaps? As she moved to look further, she noticed Hog standing stock still in front of a patch of wall that looked no different from the rest.

“Hog? What’s wrong?” she asked tentatively, but he offered no answer. Only when she got closer did she notice that the bricks here seemed a lot less chipped and scratched with age. The shape also seemed slightly out of place – less curved, too. And she was certain the entirety of the cabin was a solid round shape.

“Jamie,” she called out, prompting a vague “yeah, darl?” from behind her.

“Stay here, will you? I just need to go outside and check something.”

Junkenstein had no clue as to what she was doing, but before he could ask, she marched outdoors. A moment or two passed as he examined the homemade quilts and the monster continued to stand there as if paralysed before she came back through the doorframe.

“This side of the cabin should be bigger” she said simply, causing him to frown. Now both her _and_ Hog were looking at this wall. What was the big deal with walls all of a sudden?

He limped over while Mei began rapping her fist against the brickwork.

“That sounds strangely hollow.”

“And?”

“Either this wall’s five feet thick or there’s something behind here.”

His curiosity was instantly piqued.

“Oh, like what?”

“I’m not psychic Jamie, am I?” she sighed exasperatedly, “let’s just find an easy way to – _no, Hog, wait!”_

The monster plunged his elbow into the wall, which splintered weakly upon impact. It was actually a thin sheet of wood that been masterfully painted and textured over. Hog proceeded to rip the surrounding wood apart and pull out a large chest.

No, it wasn’t a chest.

It was a coffin. Oak wood, sleek and smooth for something that had been stuck behind a dusty old wall for who knew how long.

Junkenstein looked at Mei, a concerned expression on his face.

“Ya alright with this, darl?”

Despite everything, Mei couldn’t help but reminisce of their grave-digging experience. And even more strange was that fact that it made her smile.

“Yes, Jamie. I’m ready for thi-“

“Hold on just a sec before we do, darl. Gotta take a leak.”

And with that mood-killing statement, he limped on out, already unzipping his trousers. Not exactly a mental image Mei wanted to retain forever. She shifted her gaze back to the coffin and decided to block said image out by opening it.

The lid was heavier than it looked, but Hog stomped over and lifted one end while she did so with the other. She was fully prepared to drop it if its contents were too gory, but what she _did_ end up finding was much more unexpected.

It was a woman in a lab coat. A thoroughly unexceptional figure if you would have walked by her in the street, but the fact that she was stuck in this little box screamed _potential danger._ Her hair was short and ginger, most likely so as to prevent it from getting in her eyes. Speaking of eyes, both of hers appeared mismatched – one red, the other purple – and it was the only feature that seemed even remotely strange. What was _above_ her head was more interesting.

It seemed to be a swirling orb of mist in a shade of purple similar to one of the eyes, except it recoiled as Mei attempted to reach out and touch it. From the orb stemmed a hazy, purple trail that linked it to the woman’s head, constantly swirling but never deviating from its target.

One thing was for certain: this was no ordinary house and people didn’t lock other people into coffins for no good reason. This could be a departed relative, but she’d have had to have died less than a day ago for the body to be this fresh.

A single motion caused her to nearly vomit. The woman’s chest rose and fell back down again, ever so slightly. Mei hurriedly put her fingers to the neck and felt something. The weakest of pulses.

Not dead. _Alive_.

As the thoughts rushed through her head and she attempted to slow down and separate the plausible from the implausible, she heard Junkenstein coming back in.

“Jamie, you’re not going to believe this, but there’s a woman in here.”

“Well that’s what coffins are for, ain’t they?” came his reply as she heard him do his zipper back up again.

“But she’s alive. I’m not joking, I just felt a _pulse_. She’s got this strange orb near her head and – hold on, there’s something else. In between her legs.”

She reached over and pulled something out. It was a single crystal which she could tell was somehow glowing, given the lack of light penetrating the trees around the cabin.

“Here, take a look,” she said, passing it into his gloved hand as he stood beside her, “What do you make of it? It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen.”  
She watched his face grew from curious to understanding. Then from understanding to fear. And then from fear to abject terror.

“Jamie, what on earth’s wrong?”

Junkenstein seemed unable to breath for a few seconds and instead opted to pick the lid of the coffin off the ground in a surprising show of strength and forcefully let it drop back on top of the woman.

“Wait, what are you-“  
“ _I know whose house this is_.”

Those words weren’t too foreboding on their own, but the way he’d become so flustered and panicked in the space of seconds told her all too well that this wasn’t someone who’d be overly happy to see them.

“We gotta go darl. Right now. I’ll explain on the way. We’ve just – get out of the way, ya massive cockhead! I said, _get out of the way!”_

Even Hog looked slightly taken aback as Junkenstein hurriedly stuffed the green crystal into his lab coat, getting out of the way as fast he could manage. Junkenstein ran to the doorframe and motioned for them to follow him.

“ _C’mon!”_

“But the woman –“

“Leave the woman! We gotta go before she finds anything outta place and trust me, with this mess it ain’t gonna be long!”

“Who’s _she_?”

He ran back over, grabbed her by the arm and lifted her off her feet.

“Bloody hell, for a smart girl, ya ain’t nearly as fast a bloody runner –“  
Mei frowned, but decided to reprimand him for that remark later when he’d calmed down a bit.

“- don’t get me wrong, ya smart and all, but in a life or death situation –“

“Hello, Mr Junkenstein. Nice monster you’ve got there.”

Junkenstein let out a noise that sounded half like a moan and half like a whimper. Mei looked up to see a blonde-haired woman dressed as a Witch standing in front of them, a smile colder than ice and a broom in her hand.

Junkenstein attempted a casual smile that seemed more like his jaw was falling off.

“’Ello, Miss Witch.”

“Now we’ve once again dispersed with the pleasantries, please can you tell me why you’ve been destroying my home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if anyone's just wanting a direct telling of the canon Junkenstein story, I just get caught up in all these little side-plots that I want to include so as to make the story more interesting. I've also decided that yes, I will be turning this Junkenstein thing into a series, because I've got so much I'd love to do once I've covered and finished the original story, eg. somehow fitting more characters into this world and thinking of new villains and heroes for Junkenstein to (try and) get along with.  
> Please leave comments, these three chapters have really been fun, but I'd love to see what you guys think!


	12. Forcing the Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, he hadn't expected mercenaries being hired to kill him. As of that moment, he wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or worried.

The woman took a single step forward and planted the end of her broom into the muddy ground. Mei felt something shoot through her body, causing every muscle to seize up and immobilising her. She couldn’t do anything but stand there as her eyes jutted back and forth between this eerie woman and Junkenstein, who’s half-open mouth had seized up in a similar fashion.

The woman waved a single strand of hair that had been covering one of her eyes out of the way, still wearing that predator-like smile. She was obviously the kind that liked to toy with their prey before eating it. After doing so in an exaggeratedly slow manner, she opened her mouth and spoke in a surprisingly normal voice.

“I’d have thought that after all I did for you Mr Junkenstein, you’d at least have had the common courtesy to not trash my humble abode. I may be a woman who practices the dark arts once or twice, but some things are just rude, honestly.”

Junkenstein, of course, didn’t reply. Mei could only hear small noises from the back of his throat as he struggled to get something out.

The Witch put a hand to her ear, leaning over.

“Want to speak a little louder there, sweetheart? I’m afraid I may have just implanted a special type of venom into your muscles and vocal cords.”

While Mei still couldn’t move, she was able to feel herself blanche. She could hardly breathe and whenever she tried to inhale oxygen, nothing seemed to be happening. Junkenstein simply made more incoherent noises, this time more loud and desperate.

“Very well, I’ll remove it,” she said in a stage sigh, planting her broom into the ground again. Mei collapsed as the feeling returned, sucking in lungfuls of air and struggling to stand, as Junkenstein clutched at his throat and ran his tongue along his teeth.

Just as she felt strong enough to at the very least kneel, the Witch lightly clapped her hands together. Vines sprung from the earth and wrapped themselves around her waist and ankles, cutting through her clothing and lifting her up off the ground, promptly leaving her dangling upside-down. Junkenstein struggled as best he could against his own set, but he eventually gave in and just hung there beside her. Hog had been hefted up by what looked more like tree roots, though he didn’t move or resist in the least. On the contrary, he looked partially bored by proceedings.

“Now, listen Miss Witch, before ya do anythin’ too hasty-“Junkenstein instantly tried, but she loudly cut across him.

“Do you know that I have over a hundred security protocols around this cabin?” she began, fiddling with one of her bracelets rather than look at them, “Though I daresay they’re slightly more potent than a security camera. It’s just a shame I have to be around to activate them…still, I’ve finally got someone to test them on now, that’s the good thing.”

She blinked and turned to Mei, as if only just noticing her for the first time. Mei forced the dirtiest look she could muster.

The Witch ever-so- slowly started walking towards where she was suspended, one eyebrow raised as the look began to wilt.

“Well my dear, you’re certainly something” the Witch remarked, now the two of them were face-to-face, “wonder what I could interest you with?”

“Don’t ya dare touch her!” Junkenstein almost shouted, surprising himself with his own fierceness, though the Witch appeared not to have heard him. She lifted a glove hand and stroked Mei’s cheek, causing her to recoil as best she could.

“You seem somewhat fond of ice, my dear. Your clothing gives a way a lot…arctic boots…coat decorated with stitches of snowflakes…oh, the things I could do with you.”

Mei decided not to let her elaborate.

“Listen, without meaning to be rude,” she began, with a tone that held rudeness in every syllable, “but who on earth are you?”  
The Witch raised her eyebrow again and a smile slowly spread across her features as she turned to look at Junkenstein. He appeared worried, to say the least.

“My, you haven’t told her? This _is_ awkward.”

She turned back to Mei, staring her directly into her eyes as she spoke. “Still, I shall answer this simple question of yours dear and no more, as I’m sure by then you’ll have plenty you’ll want to ask the good Doctor here too.”

She took a deep breath and carried on.

“I am a three thousand year old voodoo witch who offers you anything you desire provided you honour one simple request of mine in the future. I know quite a lot of magic, but don’t start thinking I’m a horrible person or anything like that. Such stereotypes a beneath us non-mortals.”

It was only a few sentences long, but boy was Mei having a hard time wrapping her head around all this information.

“Hang on…three thousand year old…voodoo…what?”

“I’m sure the good Doctor will explain things to you provided what I’m about to do to him _next_ –“ she clapped her hands again and the vines bounding Junkenstein tightened around his waist, causing him to gasp suddenly, “-doesn’t kill him.”

The obvious question was there and Mei couldn’t help but ask it.

“What about me?”  
The Witch simply shrugged.

“You’ve made no deals with me my dear, and are therefore not bound by my rules. I could punish you just for generally breaking into my house, but I don’t think we have much of a problem.”

She flicked her wrist and the vines holding her let go, causing her to fall to the ground with a slight _“oof.”_

“With all due respect, Witch, or whoever you are, I’m afraid we do,” she began, wiping dirt from her sleeves.

“Oh?” said the Witch, shifting her gaze from a petrified Junkenstein. It sounded innocent enough, but the entire forest seemed to go silent.

“Yes, well, you see,” she stammered, trying not to trip on her own tongue, “we were in your cabin and noticed you have a living, breathing human locked up in a damn _coffin_. So I must ask you to release my friend here and let us leave or we’ll report you to the village authorities.”

This was of course a bare-faced lie; everyone in the village hated them. But there was no reason to let the blonde-haired woman know that.

“Person?” asked the Witch in the middle of another sweetened laugh, one that caused the lining of Mei’s stomach to churn. “Oh no my dear, that’s an old friend of mine in there. Well, enemy. We had a bit of a falling out, you see. Turns out this world actually _isn’t_ big enough for two ancient practitioners of the dark arts. Plus, she was Irish. Have you ever heard of a successful enchantress who had a thick Irish accent? Exactly. Swiss is a lot more calm and persuasive, my dear.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Mei managed, forcing herself to continue looking the Witch in the eye despite every instinct telling her to run, “But I insist that you let me and my friends leave this place along with the woman in the coffin. No-one deserves to be shut in a tight space like that.”

The Witch tilted her head in a way very similar to Hog and scratched her chin. “Well, I suppose I _could_ …after all, rescuing a being that possesses magic means they’re indebted to you forever…”

Mei frowned. She couldn’t exactly claim to be an expert on this subject, but –

“What?”

“Oh yes, it’s one of the only downsides. But you didn’t hear that from _me_ …”  
She continued to scratch her chin. Whether for dramatic effect or not, Mei thought it definitely achieved the mounting levels of tension within her.

“Very well, girl. I’ll grant these little wishes of yours. I like you. You’re very feisty and unlike _this_ wreck –“she pointed to Junkenstein again, who immediately stopped trying to struggle against his bonds upon realising he was being observed, “- I think you’d make a quite a good Witch yourself one day.”

Mei had no clue what to say to that.

“All I ask is that I have you by my side as a…shall we say… _apprentice_ , in the future.”

“ _Apprentice?”_

“One day my dear, we will die. Even us Witches. If you agree to my deal, you will inhibit some of my magic and become some form of magical being with only a small amount of power. Once you pass onto the next world…well, you won’t. Because by then you’ll have joined and learned from me as I train you to take my place. It’s quite simple, really. You get to live centuries longer. What’s to lose?”

Mei nodded, her lips tight. She’d best make sure not to die too early, then.

“Agreed.”

“No, darl, don’t-“Junkenstein began, but the Witch sharply turned and backhanded him across the face.

“You don’t interrupt a deal, Doctor, let me warn you. Otherwise your own will be in forfeit” she snapped, before continuing on as if nothing had happened. Mei tried to block out what she’d just seen, alongside the motherly instinct to see how badly that had hurt him. “So, let’s do it the old-fashioned way with a handshake.”

Mei took several deep breaths as the Witch outstretched her hand and took it. Almost instantly a searing pain shot through her arm and for whatever reason, into her mouth. She cried out in pain and clutched at her teeth, which felt like they were dramatically elongating. The muscles in her legs cramped up all at once, causing her to collapse to the floor, shivering. Through watering eyes she could catch a bright sequence of lights travelling around her body, until the pain eventually subsided and she could see again. The Witch was still standing there like nothing had happened.

She stood up rather quickly, considering the experience she’d just had. She ran a finger over her teeth, but they seemed normal. Nothing had physically changed as far as she could tell. In fact, it was all rather…anticlimactic.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” the Witch said offhandedly, once again fiddling with a single bracelet - obviously she no longer considered Mei worthy of attention any more. “but you’ve now taken in some of my ability. Congratulations.”

She stomped her foot on the earth and the vines holding Junkenstein and Hog let them drop in a manner even less elegant than Mei’s. She then clicked her fingers and the coffin fell from the sky before them, narrowly missing Junkenstein’s head.

“You should be grateful for your lady friend, Mr Junkenstein” she said conversationally, yet every word somehow sounded like they were the final ones he was ever going to hear, “otherwise, I’d have been carrying out a few experiments of my own.”

Junkenstein just gulped and proceeded to put as much distance between her and himself as possible, chatting all the way.

“Well as ya can see Miss Witch, I’ve gotten Hog here up and we’re rallyin’ together our stuff to take over the city. Not sure whether ya knew that, but that’s the main reason I wanted Hog in the first place – walkin’ weapon, he is. Just look! Paired with the zomnics and a few others bits and bobs we got lyin’ around, we’ve got enough to knock ol’ Reinhardt off his throne!”

“Reinhardt?” the Witch suddenly piped up, indicating that this was the only word that had really registered. “ _Lord_ Reinhardt?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Oh, that man said some very harsh things about me. Outwardly, he was charming as all heck, but then I offer him a favour and, well…it’s just _“evil hag”_ this and _“burn her at the stake”_ that…say, would you care to stay here while you plan this little revenge of yours? It does get _very_ boring at times.”

“Sure. Just please don’t kill me or anythin’ and I’ll bring everythin’ right here.”

 

*

 

Mei gritted her teeth and wrapped her coat around her as she experienced the first bout of winter wind hit her in the face. She’d agreed to help transport some of Junkenstein’s goods out of his lab and back to the forest, all the whilst without raising the suspicion of the townsfolk.

The plan was simple: she’d go into the city, find the cart they’d abandoned a few days back and load everything on there, before just casually riding out as if nothing was wrong.

She’d enter through the main gates, while Hog was entering using the sewer system that ran underneath the town. Junkenstein had childishly scrawled a map of the city on the other side of her list and pointed it out as an alternative escape route should things go awry. He’d apparently discovered it when looking for somewhere to run experiments, though he never went down afterwards due to said experiment going haywire. Not wanting a more hostile version of Hog or a Grave Keeper 2.0 chasing her through the tunnels, she dared inquire as to the dangers that could possibly have been lurking down there, upon which he looked at his feet and murmured something about radioactive sludge.

Fantastic.

Swallowing back her fear, she noticed that the town’s gates were locked tight in the first time she’d remembered since settling here. The dark shade of oak looked even more imposing under the steel grey tinge of the clouds as they loomed over her, almost daring her to knock. Trying to take her mind off how rapidly her heart was beating, she raised a fist and banged three times. The echoes were cut off by the wind, but in a surprisingly short amount of time there was a drawn-out creaking sound from behind and they slowly opened to the tune of wooden hinges grinding together, to reveal…

Nothing. Nothing but a foreboding silence hanging above her like a boulder just ready to crush her spine. A single newspaper sheet drifted past her as the wind picked up speed, yet nothing else seemed to move a centimetre. Not a single person was visible and she was beginning to wish there were townsfolk there laughing and pointing at her again rather than everyone just seeming to have vanished into thin air.

She took a few tentative steps down the main street and once again towards the shops around the fountain. Once again, every shutter was closed, every stand empty and all she could really hear was her heart pounding nervously. Even the fountain seemed to pour out its water in a feeble manner.

A steady noise she couldn’t identify was streaming from somewhere to her right and she steadily walked along the street to the source. Only a few steps later did she realise it was the wind carrying faded gusts of cheering…or was it shouting? Whatever it was, there were evidently a lot of people and they were all in Reinhardt’s castle.

There was the scraping of a rusted manhole behind her and she turned to see Hog poking his out of one of the sewers and looking equally confused. When his blackened eyes focused her way, she simply put a finger to her lips and motioned to the route up the hill and towards her manor.

“Ours not to reason why,” she said. A Shakespeare reference may not have been a suitable thing to say in place of “stay quiet or we’ll most likely be captured and killed”, but the monster seemed to get the message nonetheless and climbed out as slowly as possible.

Silence again. As far as communication between man and monster went, Mei was fairly sure she wouldn’t be top of the “most sociable” leader board as of about now.

“So…shall we go?” she asked, starting to walk towards the bridge up to the manor in a form of vague suggestion. The cart was bound to be somewhere along the route. Hog let out his signature grunt and started to stomp alongside her.

 

*

 

“Come on, _come on!”_

A weak _phut_ erupted from the Bastion unit’s chest, but it failed to sit up. Junkenstein side as he disconnected the jumper cables and put his head in his hands. The damn things had taken over three hours to dig up and dust off, but _no_ , they just had to be destroyed beyond repair.

“Problems, doctor?” came that sugary voice he’d rather quickly grown to cringe towards every time he heard it. He dared to look up and noticed the Witch sitting by the door to the hut, sipping a cup of tea and resting upon a wooden chair. “I really do hope things are going to plan.”

“Yeah, yeah, things are goin’ to plan just great!” he managed to say for the fifth or sixth time that afternoon, his smile showing much too many teeth. The minute she looked away he ground his teeth and gave the thing a good kick, promptly receiving nothing for his troubles except a muted cracking noise and an aching foot.

“Goddammit!” he swore, grabbing his toe and falling on his side in the muddy ground, the impact causing the November leaves to scatter wildly. “Piece of crap! Just can’t bloody work, can ya? Ya know who I am? I’m ya bloody creator! _Ya bloody creator!_ So when I say ya work for me, _ya goddamn work for me_!”

He flung his arms around in an attempt to get up, but his glove suddenly came into contact with something leathery. He steadily moved it up something connected to this leathery item – ling and thing, but incredibly cold. No, wait – there were two of these things. Then they met to create something weirdly squishy in the middle…

“Get your worm-ridden hands off my fucking junk” came that impossibly gravelly voice from behind him and Junkenstein didn’t have to hear any more to realise that he may have just given a guy with a pumpkin for a head a free hand job. The hand was hurriedly withdrawn, but that didn’t stop the Reaper from making a deliberate effort to stand on his broken toe as he strode over to the Witch.

“I scouted out the town, as you requested Mistress,” he mumbled, bowing on one knee before her. The Witch simply continued to sip her tea as if it was just the mailman reading the newspaper out to her, ignoring the sounds of Junkenstein crying out over his freshly-trodden foot. “And it’s mostly empty. Everyone has rallied to the Lord’s castle for, and I quote directly, _emergency evacuation.”_

The Reaper paused for effect, then slowly turned his fiery gaze towards Junkenstein, fixing him with a look so piercing he even stopped his bawling.

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot,” he added, a smile playing in his voice, “his Lordship has similarly hired mercenaries to hunt you down.”

All pain evaporating on the spot, Junkenstein climbed steadily to his feet, feeling the colour drain from his face.

“M – mercenaries? Over little old me?” But –I ain’t that dangerous! Sure, I’ve killed a guy and am probably gonna kill the rest of ‘em too, but geez…dunno whether to be flattered or worried.”

“Pick worried,” the Witch advised putting down her saucer before pushing lightly past the Reaper and looking him directly in the eye. He hated it when she did that. It was like watching a cobra trying to figure out how it should devour its next meal. “We need to begin the attack.”

“What, now?”  
The first sign of irritation he’d ever seen from the Witch briefly flashed across her face.

“No, next week. _Of course_ I mean now, Doctor! You want revenge on everyone in that village, do you not?”

“Well…well yeah, but Mei and Hog-“

“Mei and Hog are already in there, so they may as well as be ready to fight. And even they don’t, who cares? They at least get a front-row seat for all the carnage.”

“But, the zomnics ain’t ready to sneak in or anythin’ and as for the ginger lass over there…”  
“The ginger lass, as you so delicately put it, can wait. Right now your…zomnics, is it? Your zomnics and these Bastion units are what we need to focus on getting into the castle.”

“Why are ya bein’ so helpful again?” Junkenstein dared to inquire, narrowing his eyes behind the goggles, “there’s somethin’ ya ain’t tellin’ me, ain’t there?”

The Witch released another one of those tinkling laughs, the extra sweetness warning him of the extra venom.

“My dear Doctor, of course there’s something I’m not telling you. That’s what makes our agreement so _fun_.” 

“Right…” Junkenstein decided to say as the Reaper sniggered in the background. “Well as long as ya _are_ helpin’, how’d ya propose we get these things into, ya know…killin’ position without them instantly bein’ shot at by these mercenaries?”

The Witch walked back to her table, rapping his finger against the saucer as she thought. In the middle distance, she noticed a few of the zomnics, a few of whom had legs, trying to dig up more Bastion units with the wrong ends of their shovels. They were very scrawny. From this far away, she mused to herself, you could even mistake their stature to that of-

Then a thought hit her and she looked back down at her table, particularly the white fabric tablecloth. Fabric that if sewn properly, could even be a makeshift lab coat.

She turned back around, witnessing both Junkenstein and her servant’s heads perk up again.

“Doctor, I believe I have a solution for you. How about we play dress-up?”

Junkenstein looked at her like she’d lost it.

“Ya what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we approach the final battle. By the way, I've posted the first chapter of a much shorter story on my page that you may want to view - just a platonic sort of "day in the life" scenario for Junkrat and Roadhog so check that out if you're interested. As always, be sure to leave me those sweet, sweet comments and suggestions for the final showdown


	13. Vengeance Begins / Goodbye Hog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assault begins and Junkenstein's forces begin their march as Hog learns something Mei never thought she'd teach anyone.

“Soldier, the drawbridge is clear.”

“Affirmative, Amari. Keep an eye on any latecomers entering the castle.”

“Will do.”

“Hey, are any of you fellas at all bothered about putting me on something other than cart-watching duty tonight?”

“May I remind you that this network is for essential communications _only_ , oddity.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“I don’t care.”

The soldier cut off the cowboy’s surly protests as he put down his wireless radio and sighed. He was glad he’d taken a long a few spares, it was evident no-one in this crummy little village would have one. Everyone seemed too primitive for their own good around here and while he would have preferred to have put the fact down to an urge for a more idyllic and nostalgic lifestyle, more and more evidence surfaced every hour that this was a village that wanted nothing to do with the outside world.

He was currently standing inside the Lord’s main audience chamber, which was jam packed with carts, luggage and even a few horses as he and the cowboy attempted to form everyone into an orderly line and move them out of the back entrance of the castle. Such a task was proving incessantly arduous – three times he’d been verbally abused by random townsfolk for making them wait so long and just fifteen minutes ago, a rather overly-happy woman carrying a crate of fruit had accidentally ran into him. Give him a parade of Nazis to battle with over this crap any day.

But finally the line began to reach an end and he could find room to breathe in again – only fifteen groups of people, one family and fourteen couples, were left standing as at long last the final horse was led out into the Adlesbrun forest with the rest of the procession.

“Hard night, hmm?” came a rich voice from behind and the soldier turned, scowling, to see the Lord standing behind him in full battle armour. Damn it, his instincts were getting slower every hour. Thank God the sum he would receive after putting a round through the Junkenstein guy’s head would be enough to secure a comfortable enough retirement, any more jobs and he’d be dead before you could say “pension scheme.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” he replied, not bothering to sound at all polite. He was here to do his job, not make friends – a concept the cowboy seemed to find very hard to grasp. Then the appearance of the armour only just struck him as odd. God, his age really _was_ catching up with him. “What’s with the fancy getup?”

“My comrades used to be the Crusaders of Germany,” the Lord began with the air of an old grandfather telling a tale to his children, “and now I am the only one left. I assure you, you shall still be paid in full by my accossiates should I die, but I will battle alongside you and see that my town is made safe again from the mad clutches of Doctor Junkenstein.”

A tad dramatic for the soldier’s tastes, but the man was obviously ready to stand for the place he ruled over. No-one could ask for a more courageous leader in that respect. He settled on shrugging as a reply.

“Sure thing. If that’s what you want.”

The bearded man waved to one of the townsfolk as the queue slowly moved upwards and nodded slightly. “Thank you.”

Silence threatened to reign for a few seconds before the wireless crackled to life. Soldier picked it up more desperately as he should have, by now wanting someone to fire a shot just to relieve the boredom.

“Morrison, I have a large group of people currently crossing the drawbridge.”

The soldier licked his lips behind the mask, only just realising how dry they were.

“What are they, townsfolk? Please specify.”

There was a short pause until the alchemist answered back.

“No idea, I can’t see their faces. They all seem to be wearing large black robes, which seems quite suspicious in of itself, to be honest.”

Outside, Amari placed her eye closer to the scape, ignoring the bitter wind picking up behind her as she perched on top of one of the towers. The figures were slowly moving up the drawbridge and towards the castle’s main doors with no sign of stopping or paying her any attention. There were ten…no, twenty…thirty, even. All wearing black hoods. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“There’s thirty of them and I have a clear shot on roughly eight,” she called into the wireless, before the wind lashed out at its most fearsome and she noticed a tiny detail. “Hold on…”

The hood of the figure at the very front was blown off in the sudden gale, revealing a mop of spiked silver hair and bright blue goggles that flashed in the moonlight. She didn’t need to take another look at the wanted poster to know this was her target.

“I’ve got eyes on the target. Appears to be Junkenstein. Shoot to kill?”

Back inside the hall, Morrison checked to make sure the Lord had moved away and saw him helping a struggling man push his cart of hay bales.  “Yes. Shoot to kill.”

Amari didn’t waste another second. In a single movement, she plucked out a dart of poison, loaded it into the barrel, took aim, and fired.

The rifle was silenced, yet she could hear the sound ring out into the darkness as the figure clutched at its chest and collapsed to the rough cobblestones just outside the main entrance. She waited to see if he made any more movement before speaking back into the radio.

“Target is down.”

 

*

 

Mei in exhaustion sighed as she rummaged throughout the seemingly endless piles of blueprints and papers. With every blue sheet she flung aside, the wish that she’d cleaned the place more slowly settled in. Whichever copy she picked up next, she knew it was going to be either crumpled, torn, or have the word “REJECTED” stamped across it in bold red ink.

“Hog, check over there, could you? We might have missed- Hog?”

The big creature was standing stock still, looking out of the window that faced the direction of Lord Reinhardt’s castle.

“What’s the matter?”

No response. Not that she expected one, anyway. She stood up, brushed off her knees and slowly started to walk up to him.

“You seem to be a bit on edge is all I’m say-“

Then she heard it. The muffled sound of gunfire. Multiple shots being fired from behind the walls. And the worst thing was, it was too obvious to be a coincidence. Jamie had already started his attack on the castle without telling her.

“But he – why did he? _He abandoned me!”_ she cried out, before promptly realising how emotional she sounded and tried to shut herself up. Inside her head, however, an internal battle was raging.

He had abandoned her, almost as if there was no trust. Just sent her off to the manor to get out of the way and – well no, he was obviously worried for her safety. Yes, that was it. Just worried. Of course he was. She’d already proven not to be much good in a fight, that much was true.

Then that nasty voice came back, just as prominent as ever.

_What if he isn’t though? What if this was all an act to get help and you walked right into the trap like a sucker?_

In order to force it back down, she attempted to speak to Hog despite the obvious outcome of him not uttering a single syllable’s reply.

“Are we going over there?”

Hog did nothing but grab her around the waist with a startled shout and run straight towards the window.

“Let go!” she cried upon realising what his plan was, “Let go, let go, _let go!”_

He didn’t let go. Instead he barrelled through the small gap with surprising athletic ability for a creature of his size and plummeted from the top floor, colliding with the soft earth of the overgrown garden with a loud thumping sound as the mud reverberated around him.

_“Let go!”_ she continued to yell, but he continued to avoid listening to her and started dragging her alongside him as he began running in the direction of Reinhardt’s castle.

“ _Hog, please! Let go of me this instant!”_

No answer except for a muffled panting behind the mask.

And that was when the emotions she’d tried to keep bottled up for days tipped over and smashed, pouring all over her heart. She couldn’t seem to breathe straight anymore, all she could see was the slowly growing outline of the bridge and she just wanted to be alone, away from Jamie and the village and this _thing_.

All in all, she just couldn’t take it anymore.

_“For the last time, let go of me this fucking instant!”_ she shrieked, not bothering to care about her ancestors would be turning in their graves upon hearing such words, _“you giant, filthy **pig! LET. GO!”**_

Hog almost screeched to a halt, the sudden stop causing her to jolt in his grip. For a moment her tentative fear returned, knowing she had gone too far. But the way she was placed back onto her own two feet was more gentle than hostile. She felt tears well in her eyes again and didn’t bother hide them, only pausing to sniffle and look up slightly as Hog offered out his coat sleeve as a handkerchief.

“Th…thank you, Hog. I’m sorry.”

His head tilted in a motion of curiosity as he took a few steps back to give her space. Lovely, lovely space. She took deep breaths and looked directly into his eyes for what she believed might have been the first time ever without feeling scared in some way.

Well, she _was_ scared. Terrified, even. But not of him. How was she going to get him to understand?

“I – I need time away. I can’t…I can’t really explain to you more than that. I just need to leave this town once and for all, and it’s not that…” she choked for a second, “it’s not because of you and Jamie. It’s not. You see, when I…”

She trailed off, realising she was about to disclose information she’d never dreamt she would have just a month ago. Information she’d never given anyone in her entire life, now about to be delivered to this man-made beast.

“When I was younger, I had a fall…I was in a coma for…I don’t know how long…maybe about six years? Anyway, when I returned home, I learned my…” she couldn’t go any further for a minute and started to weep again. Hog, to his credit, didn’t even move as the sounds of gunfire continued in the far distance. “When I returned, my mother had…died. And my father was about to die too.”

She tried to steady her voice, but it just left her more choked up.

“I should have talked to him. I should have waited until he passed on to…”

This was it. The bomb.

“I should have waited for him to do so before trying to sell off the manor. It was stupid, but I just got greedy and…”

Another sniffle.

“When I next went in to see my father, he looked so disappointed…he never talked to me except to say what by that point I already knew…that I was second-rate…not as good as my…as my ancestors.”

That was all she could say before she descended into another fit of tears. Hog slowly lifted one of his tremendous fingers to cup her head in a tender motion, but suddenly stopped as its eyes wandered towards her left arm. And it was only then did she realise how her sleeve was rolled up slightly from the force of her wiping her eyes with it.

“No, no _wait_ –“ she started, but Hog was too quick; grabbing the sleeve and yanking it all the way back to reveal a long bandage, small streaks of horizontal red soaking through. She held her breath, awaiting judgement.

“Look, I…after the party, I realised just how big a disappointment the entire town viewed me as…and now I know it’s stupid and there opinion didn’t matter and never will, but…I got low. I couldn’t see an end to it until you and Jamie came back, so I…”

She hung her head in shame, finally daring herself to crane her neck and look back at him. She never thought the eyes of a monster made for the sole purpose of killing could look compassionate, yet how wrong she was.

“Look, just don’t tell Jamie, alright? He has enough on his plate already and…tell him I’m safe and I’ve moved to Eichenwalde. He’s able to visit me whenever he wishes; you know how nice he can be when he wants to…”

Hog finally withdrew his hand and nodded a silent farewell. Mopping up the last of her tears, she couldn’t help but give a small smile in thanks and turned back towards the Manor to pack up the last of her things.

“Goodbye, Hog. I wish you all the best.”

She had her back to him, but knew he was still staring at the back of her neck. Shifting her sodden spectacles up her nose to regain her composure, she started walking, knowing every step took her further and further away from the only two beings she’d ever truly enjoyed the company of.

Hog let out a low, drawn-out _humph_ from the inside of his throat and stood rooted to the spot until Mei vanished into the manor’s front door. Even then it was another minute or so until he turned around and continued running back to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how did I do writing depressing stuff? I wanted the ending of this to feel tragic, especially after Hog learning Mei once cut herself and Junkenstein has been shot...or has he? :) Tell me how I did as always in the comments below. I want this finale to be grand and therefore would love some input.


	14. The Final Confrontation

After the body dropped, Ana released a breath and began to focus back in on the target and make sure the Doctor was definitely dead. Something told her the Lord would be disappointed what with them having killed the man rather than capturing him, but at the end of the day the problem was still being rid of one way or another.

Jack (or the Soldier, as he liked to call himself when around those he didn’t personally know) was as sharp as always as his voice came back over the comm.

“Amari. Is Junkenstein dead?”

“I’m trying to get my sights on him now. Let me look…”

“I’ll go tell the Lord that we’ve got the freak. You stay out there just in case.”

“No, wait...just hold on a second, Jack. There’s something…something’s up…”

“What do you mean?”

Amari paid him no attention this time as she observed the scene unfolding through the reaffirmed lens of her rifle. The body was still lying there, as a body should, but the strange thing was that none of the other hooded figures seemed even remotely bothered that one of their own had just been shot through the chest. Any normal group of people would have hesitated and stopped, if not ran, but the other beings in black cloaks simply stepped over the body as if it were nothing.

Then she noticed it.

She enhanced the zoom of the scope to the largest magnification possible to get a look at her victim’s face. From her original view the target had looked like Junkenstein after the hood had been blown off, but now she realised she may have been too quick to assume. Certain features looked like his, but the skin was a lot more grey and – hold on.

_Grey?_

The skin was metal. The goggles were leather straps with nuts and bolts used for the rims. The teeth were white metal chips inserted into a gaping iron maw. Even the hair was fake, made up of strands and strands of sliced-up silver wire. The neck and torso, as far as she could tell, was covered with the white of a lab coat, though the material looked cheap – more like some sort of tarp than fabric.

In short, it looked like Junkenstein. But it wasn’t.

“It’s not him,” she urgently whispered into the mic, her eye still on the body. “I don’t know why, but it’s not him.”

Jack’s disciplinary bark was almost immediate.

“What the hell do you mean? Did you just shoot a _civilian_?”  
“ _No!”_ she hissed back, almost insulted at the fact that he even assumed her to be some cold-blooded killer. “I don’t mean that! I mean it – oh, no.”

As she watched, the figure that was now at the front tore off its cloak. The second also did this, then so did the one behind that. Then the one behind that and the one behind that. The domino effect continued and the knot in her stomach grew tighter as they all removed their black coverings to reveal those same fake goggles, that same fixed metal grin and that same cheap-looking lab coat as they either seemingly floated or limped towards the castle doors, now only metres away.

This was _exactly_ what she didn’t want.

“Morrison, all the targets are dressed to look exactly like Junkenstein and all appear incredibly dangerous. Positive identification is going to be impossible.”

Back inside the main hall, Morrison licked his lips in anticipation behind the mask.

“Gotcha. Keep an eye on the perimeter, take care of any others that show up” he shut off the comm, turning in the direction of McCree and shouting across the room. “Hey, cowboy. Get ready to-“

He got no further before the stained glass windows behind the Lord’s throne were simultaneously smashed open one by one as the multiple mechanical Junkensteins with the horribly fixed grins came leaping or crawling through. McCree was the first to move, rolling to the left and letting his revolver rip. Six bullets tore through the air at once, each landing a hit on his targets’ heads, but more and more were coming through, simply treading over the scrap metal remains of their comrades.

What few civilians that were left began screaming and running for the exits. Morrison grabbed a stumbling child and quickly shoved him towards his parents as he reloaded his pulse rifle, but the man behind the child was not so lucky. One of the fake Junkensteins grabbed him by the arm and, to Morrison’s utter horror, bit down on his neck. The guy screamed as blood spurted everywhere and the thing refused to let go, beginning to tear off chunks and chunks. McCree ran over, tore the android’s head away, put the barrel down its red-soaked mouth and fired, causing the head to explode into a shower of sparks and electricity.

“Amari! There’s a townsperson down here who could really use one of your potions right now!” he shouted into his comm, not bothering to wait for a response. While he knew her only by name and nothing else, McCree was sure she’d help. Nothing about her struck him as a person who would let an innocent simply _die_. Sure enough, the simple words “I’m on my way” came back over his earpiece.

_“We’re completely cut off in this hall_!” Morrison screamed, running out of rounds and instead opting to bash in metal skulls with the butt of his rifle. “ _We need to get outside into the courtyard!”_

McCree had never noticed just how many windows this place had until each were smashed open, revealing more and more places for these grotesque robots to limp in from. There were about fifty or sixty of them now; meaning the small group Amari had spotted from her perch was only the advanced guard.

Lost in thought for just a split second too long, one of them crawled over and bit down on his boot, only for one of the fake teeth to shatter weakly upon contact. The automaton froze for a few seconds, obviously unable to compute why there wasn’t a whole lot more blood and guts behind that sculptured grin, before slowly diverting what McCree assumed to be its eyes into his.

“Yeah,” he said simply, “you can’t eat leather, sunshine” before roundhouse kicking it with all his might, the heel of his boot causing its clad-iron jaw to go sailing across the hall at quite an impressive distance, if he did say so himself.

What happened next, McCree couldn’t quite comprehend. A wall of goddamn _fire_ spewed across the room, tearing down an entire legion of the beasts and clearing the way to the exit. At the origin of the trail was the Lord himself, the end of his massive hammer smoking as he repeatedly smashed and flung attackers out of the way, his armour apparently impenetrable.

_“Go, my friends! I will be your shield!”_ he roared in a tremendous boom, grabbing one of the fakes that had managed to climb up onto his shoulder in an attempt to bite it off, only for him to toss it over his front and onto the ground before smashing its metal cranium in with his armoured boot.

“The old guy’s still got some fight in him,” McCree wheezed as he and Morrison ran for the courtyard, slightly jealous of how spry the soldier was. Morrison remained as chatty as ever and responded only by giving him a quick glare from under the visor as they barrelled out into the cold night air. Reinhardt was the last to join them, the bitten man having long since passed out and now slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

The cold night enveloped them as Ana rushed over and took the unconscious body from Reinhardt with surprisingly tender care. Besides a few torches, the moon was their only light source and the dismal orange of the main hall was cut off as the King forced the massive wooden doors shut in an astounding feat of strength.

“That will hold the ones inside for a while”, he wheezed, doubling over and grasping his hammer like a crutch.

Ana reached into a satchel she had hanging over her left shoulder and pulled out a syringe of glowing liquid, plunging it into the unbitten part of the man’s neck. The poor fellow’s eyes squinted slightly, but aside from that there was no sign of recognition or reaction.

“He’ll be fine,” she said, withdrawing the syringe and looking directly at Morrison, “the serum will rebuild the lost flesh in about ten minutes.”

“Yeah well,” replied Morrison, turning to face the drawbridge at the end of the courtyard as the screams of two guards caught their ears, “let’s hope we live to see it.”

Metal monstrosities, less scrawny than the last wave, with singular slits down the centre of their heads and guns on their arms mowed down any of the king’s men foolish enough to run at them, stomping incessantly as they went. All were rusted and battered, yet the armour they wore looked fairly tough.

Morrison cricked his neck and cocked his rifle a second time. Ana pulled out a small hand pistol from underneath her robe. McCree spun his revolver around his hand in a rapid motion, reloading and cocking it in a single move. Reinhardt gripped the hammer handle firmly as the archer drew another bow from his quiver. All of them were ready to fight to the death if they had to.

What they _weren’t_ ready for, however, was for all the metal monsters to stop moving and lower their weapons the entire legion cleared the bridge, leaving only the deathly sound of the wind whistling through their ears. Even the Junkenstein impostors inside the hall had seemed to have gone quiet, no longer scratching at the doors from the inside.

Then a blonde woman with ice-blue eyes, oak wood staff and pointed hat stepped forward out of the throng with seemingly no effort whatsoever. McCree was no supernatural expert, but he was fairly certain he could recognise a witch when he saw one. The only thing was, they weren’t really meant to _exist._

“Hello, my dears,” she said, casually flicking a loose strand of hair out of her face. Morrison refused to let his guard down for a single second. “I know this is all going rather messily so far, so I’ll be clear and spare you any more pointless bloodshed: we want Lord Reinhardt so we can murder him brutally. Well, when I say _we_ , I mainly refer Doctor Junkenstein.”

McCree could almost _feel_ Reinhardt’s glare from behind him, but didn’t dare turn around in case he was turned into a frog or something.

“Is that so?” the old man growled.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. We had ourselves a little deal and well…let’s just say he gave me quite a lot in order to have you overthrown. You’ve been a very mean king, apparently.”

“They did wrong. They were punished. I followed the laws of the country, nothing more.”

“Ah. That’s the other thing. I would have offered you a deal of your own, but then there’s the whole _they_ part. You didn’t just humiliate the Doc. _No_ , you _had_ to humiliate Mei, his dear travel companion as well. And I actually _like_ Mei.”

“Even if you offered me a deal, I would have refused. You and your bargains, as you may recall, are the reason I banished you from this town and commanded for you to never return.”

The woman looked to the skies as if lost in thought and then gave that same, easy-going smile.

“Ah, memories. Still,” she continued, snapping back to reality, “I’m giving you four other folk a nice little choice” she turned to face Morrison, who remained stonily impassive, “Not even a bargain, really. Just lay down your weapons and stroll off into the distance, while me and my friends here smash his Lordship’s brains across the cobblestones. What do you say?”

“Not happening,” was all Morrison responded with. McCree felt slightly ashamed for considering the option when those two words seemed to speak for everyone else there. “We’ve been given a job to do and there’s a healthy reward at the end of it. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m staying right here. First of all, if we beat you we get paid, not to mention that we now also have an extra bonus of wiping that goddamn smile off your face.”

The Witch simply responded by sighing in a dramatically upset manner. She turned around and called to someone over the rows and rows of Bastion units.

“Junkenstein, my dear,” she crowed, “sorry to interrupt your gutless cowering, but would you mind coming over here a minute?”

There was a few sounds of scraping and the clanging of metal, which slowly grew louder as the target himself emerged, though with noticeably less style than the Witch – almost to the point where he tripped over the feet of one of the Bastions in the front row, causing McCree to snicker slightly as he struggled to stand up again and compose himself properly with a sly grin.

“’Ello, _your Lordship_ ,” he spat, that smile growing all the more genuine and sinister with each syllable, “I’ve been waitin’ a long bloody time for this.”

Reinhardt offered no response, but reaffirmed his grip on the hammer, getting ready to swing. The look of pure determination slid off his face as soon as the entire legion of enemies parted to either side to reveal what he could only call Junkenstein’s Monster.

“Holy shit…” gaped McCree, his finger starting to fumble over the rigger. Even Morrison took an involuntary step back.

The Witch let out a simple light chuckle, which faded as soon as the Reaper materialised beside her in a swirling mist of fiery orange and charcoal black.

“Kill them.”

As soon as the last syllable had left her mouth, everything was a blur. Junkenstein’s mad cackling was all that could be heard for a few seconds. The Monster threw out a ridiculously oversized hook, which snagged Reinhardt around the waist and dragged him forwards, causing all four mercenaries to dive out of the way as the Bastion units began firing. Reinhardt tried to throw a punch and disorientate his attacker as soon as he was drawn close enough, but the beast caught his fist mid-swing and bent it back, causing him to gasp in pain as something went _crack_ beneath his skin.

The world rocked slightly as he was head-butted viciously with a mossy green snout and he could almost hear the armour denting as a swift strike to the stomach resulted him flying backwards, the hammer falling from his grip. He shakily got to his feet, perturbed by the sheer strength of his opponent. All other foes on the battlefield were forgotten about as the Lord began to create a stratagem in his head. He’d always loved a challenge.

Diving for his hammer and upsetting an abandoned wooden cart as he did so, he managed to create a temporary blockade with which to pick the thing up from the castle pond and remove the sticky bits of weed clinging to the top. Something heavy sailed past his ear and he spun around, activating the armour’s in-built shield, which ignited in a blinding haze of blue. The Monster, now brandishing an oversized blunderbuss of sorts, refused to stop firing as he ran at him at a rather surprising speed for its size. Reinhardt began to notice a pattern between each footstep and deflected clump of metal shards being fired off his protective barrier.

_Clomp._

_Bang._

_Clomp._

_Bang._

_Clomp._

_Bang._

_Clomp-_

Just as the gun barrel had cleared the shield, Reinhardt swung with all his might and the impact echoed off every wall. A stream of blood burst from the Monster’s mouth, but it was barely knocked back any more than a few inches.

And now it _really_ looked pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a cliffhanger. I swear. It's not just because I need more time to think of a more climactic way to end this final battle in any way, honestly.  
> As always, comments are my lifeblood. Tell me how you think I did and how you want this battle to go - although maybe your ideas are better than mine!


	15. Toppling A Ruler (With A Nasty Surprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally. The end. The end in which all of Junkenstein's plans come into fruition. All he really wants now is to go to bed. After all, toppling a ruler is tiring work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm not dead. Yes, I'm sorry for not updating in quite a long time. But this chapter marks the (hopefully) thrilling conclusion to our final battle.

In Junkenstein’s mind, he fought well. He dodged and dived, volleying off grenades and sending his opponents scattering in fright.

In reality, however? Not so much.

He’d managed to send his opponents scattering, that much was true. But in fear? No. All they’d been doing was diving out of the way in order to clear a path for the old bloke in the mask. Who, before Junkenstein could even realise what was going on, shot three rockets directly towards him, each leaving a deadly trail of blue as they travelled.

The instinct of self-preservation took hold at the very last second as he moved slightly to the side, narrowly dodging direct impact that would have resulted in his insides most likely being liquefied. The resulting blast radius as the projectiles hit the stone wall still caused him to go flying upwards, flailing uselessly in an attempt to grab into something and break his fall. He managed to grab onto a wooden ledge leading into one of the guard towers as he began his descent, the sudden force almost yanking his arm out of his socket and causing him to grit his teeth as he ignored the muffled _crack._

A solid mass pressed itself against his windpipe as he climbed up and it was only then that he remembered he was carrying a grenade launcher. Reaching into his coat pocket, a stream of rounds smashed into the door behind him that was leading into a guard tower. If he could just get the damn thing out-

One of the mechanisms on the launcher snagged the fabric of his coat as he attempted to pull it into his arms, leaving him tugging at it uselessly as more and more shots volleyed his way, spraying chips of stone over his head and into his hair.

 _“Fuck!”_ he cursed, finally managing to pry it free with a drawn-out ripping sound, as half of his coat seemed to come off with it. A stream of fabric hung limply from the trigger, as if silently mocking his inability to do even the simplest thing correctly.

And somehow, that was enough to make him snap.

 _“You will all regret the day you laughed at Dr Jamison Junkenstein!”_ he bellowed, beginning to volley off countless shots, each one causing one gratifying explosion after another. The cowboy narrowly avoided being blown into mincemeat as he rolled to the side as the sniper lady had to jump from one of her cosy perches as another was sent flying in her direction. She dived forwards, yet lost footing and fell onto her face as she let out a cry – presumably her leg was broken.

An inhuman roar interrupted his cathartic thoughts as Hog was flung against the wall beneath his perch, causing the fragile wooden ledge to creak and wobble slightly. If the monster was hurt, it showed absolutely no indication of such, instead picking itself up and running once again at Reinhardt, determined to be the victor.

The masked old guy had finally stopped shooting at him, instead locked in an intense fistfight with the Reaper, who seemed to mirror his moves almost exactly. Almost as if they’d known each other for years. Whenever one threw a punch, the other moved to block at exactly the same time. Whenever one sent a kick towards the others’ exposed areas, the defense was realigned almost simultaneously. This struck Junkenstein as an old rivalry, not something that had just manifested during this particular battle, but something that had festered from years back.

He had no time to dwell on anything, however, as an arrow struck him in the shoulder, blood spurting from his organic arm as he recoiled in pain, hissing like a wounded animal.

“I have landed a strike!” came the confident voice of the archer, who, before Junkenstein could adjust himself, fired a second. This one landed right into the knee joint of his mechanical leg, causing it to cave in on itself with a screeching of metal.

“No, no, _no!”_ he cried out, his anger rapidly replaced with sudden panic as he failed to regain his lost balance and felt himself begin to topple from the ledge. A third arrow flew straight through his chest, piercing it entirely and embedding itself into the tower door behind him as he began his fall.

Hog couldn’t save him…he was busy pummelling Reinhardt…the guy who was responsible for all of this…the dickhead…and Mei had gone God knows where…he sure hoped she was enjoying herself more than he was right now, that much was certain…hey, how long was this fall gonna be, anyw-

**_Wham._ **

Junkenstein felt the impact on his spine, but didn’t dare move in the knowledge that he’d otherwise feel the accompanying pain.

“Hog,” he cried weakly, “Hog, help me.”

No responses except for the muffled grunts of pain and fighting surrounding him. Through slightly blurred vision, he managed to turn his head slightly; he could see his creation, his proudest achievement, slowly being pushed backwards by Reinhardt in a hopeless losing battle. But despite everything, the creature insisted on trying its hardest to push back.

Not _it,_ Junkenstein reminded himself. _Him._

Junkenstein knew what it was like to be thought of as a freak and a nobody. And if it wasn’t for Hog, Junkenstein would have most likely have been mugged and left for dead by two peasants underneath the village bridge. Hog saved him many times in the past day in which he’d known him. He at least deserved a gender.

Then Junkenstein weakly giggled to himself. Ignoring the fact that this was most likely the result of a concussion, he gradually decided that yes, while it was nice to identify Hog as a person rather than an object, gender was probably the least of their problems right now.

 _“Doctor!”_ came a booming voice somewhere to his left as he turned to look into the deep, inky black of the night sky. He hadn’t even noticed it go dark. Must be midnight about now.

 _“Doctor!”_ it said again. God? Was it really him? And to think that Junkenstein wasn’t even properly dressed to meet his apparent creator.

A mighty smashing sound erupted just centimetres away from his ear as a battered Bastion unit collapsed beside him, smoke erupting from its chest from about twenty different holes.

“Nice to see ya, mate,” he choked, deciding it hurt too much to say anymore. “Pretty nasty few bumps ya got there.”

The Bastion unit deigned to reply.

 _“Doctor!”_ bellowed the voice, deep and gravelly. Not coming from above…but resonating through the Bastion’s chassis…hold on a minute…

Every nerve in Junkenstein’s neck screamed at him as he scraped himself up and looked over the charred remains of the android to see where it was coming.

It wasn’t God. But it was sure as hell a divine experience.

It was Hog.

Hog was _talking_ to him.

“ _Hog!”_ Junkenstein cried in a raspy gargle, smiling and probably exposing a few smashed teeth in the process. _“Ya can talk!”_

Hog sounded like he was about to shout again, but at that moment, Reinhardt managed to get an arm below him and flip him to the ground, causing the entire courtyard to shake. The monster continued to flail his arm towards the castle doors, obviously emphasising that he had a plan involving them.

What was it? If they locked themselves in with the Lord, they would still have their arses handed to them…maybe he was suggesting that Junkenstein grabbed one of them and brought it down over the geezer’s head…nah, he knew how physically weak the Doctor was…

Junkenstein lay back down to catch his breath as a streak of bullets flew over him.

Either way, the Lord would require one hell of a concentrated effort to take down with all that armour…but how the hell would those doors be any use in that scenario? Unless he meant whatever was behind the do-

Oh, _yes._

Not leaving himself a single millisecond to doubt himself in, Junkenstein pulled himself over the broken Bastion unit and slowly stood up, his smashed artificial leg threatening to give way beneath him as he began to hobble towards the castle entrance. Luckily for him, the Bastions were slowly but surely pushing the mercenaries backwards and provided cover fire as he gritted his teeth and tried to stop himself collapsing.

“Hold on, mate…I’m comin’…”

A fourth arrow struck him in the opposite shoulder and all he could do was stare intently at the doors to block out the agony.

“C’mon…”

He was fifteen feet away now.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

Three feet.

Two f-

A metal hand clamped him around the waste and he was swung around on the spot, right into the Lord’s one good eye. And that eye did _not_ look happy.

Junkenstein had never seen the Lord truly angry before. Disgruntled and disappointed, yes, but pure rage was not the man’s forte. Angry scars on his cheeks and blood soaking his beard just made him look all the more terrifying.

“I can’t believe you would do this,” he growled in his gravelly accent, “betray me after all I have done for you!” Despite the situation, Junkenstein allowed himself to sneer ever so slightly.

“Yeah? What exactly _have_ ya done for me, ya _Lordship_? Treated me like bloody filth since my father died? Always said how my inventions were never good enough? Let the townsfolk kick me in the street while ya turned a blind eye? The single word _eye_ bein’ emphasised, here.”

A single growl was his only reply as he was pummelled across the last two feet and into the doors spine-first. He never even saw the fist swinging into his chest – by God, was the old guy _fast_.

“You should have accepted your punishment for wrecking our village, Doctor, then it would all have been over. But no, as always, you took it far. Thinking you’re superior. Trying to best your leaders. Not the slightest shred of honour, all because you just hate to lose.” The Lord wiped some of the blood from his face and picked his hammer up from the smashed cobblestones, kicking Hog in the process to make sure he stayed down.

“Maybe if I give you a somewhat honourable death, all this will have been worth it for you. Goodbye, Doctor. It’s been terrible.”

The hammer raised, its silhouette of forthcoming death glinting in the morbid moonlight.

Junkenstein stood to meet both it and the Lord’s gaze, moving one arm behind his back and fumbling with the doors’ latches.

“Any last words?”

Junkenstein’s smile grew. And this time, it was genuine.

“Yeah, I got some. I admit it. Just there, ya were right.”

The hammer faltered somewhat.

“I really bloody _do_ hate to lose.”

And then he dived out of the way, letting the doors fly open from behind him as a hundred disguised and deranged zomnics, which had been trapped in there for most of the battle, burst forth in a metallic tidal wave. Most had teared up their disguises in either a rabid frenzy or an attempt to eat each other, but the new offer of fresh, armoured meat on display was enough to divert their attention entirely.

Reinhardt cried out, more in shock than anything else, only managing to swing the hammer once before he was overwhelmed. The zomnics His shouts echoed throughout the courtyard as the mercenaries and the Bastion units halted their own fights to view the spectacle.

McCree and the sniper lady looked horrified. The old guy took the opportunity to give the Reaper one final blow across the jaw before wising up and running for it. The archer took off after him, obviously knowing the battle was lost and there would be no payday. Promptly followed by McCree and then the sniper lady, who Junkenstein could swear had a single, solitary tear running down from her one good eye.

He felt absolutely no pity.

The zomnics sat there and clawed at the Lord’s twitching remains for a few more minutes, digging into whichever part of him dared to rise with his ragged breathing. Junkenstein’s vision was only just starting to go black when a pair of familiar hips came into view as a hand took his chin and raised his head.

“Congratulations, my dear Doctor Junkenstein,” she murmured, placing her other hand on his wounded shoulder, “your little revenge was a success.”

“Yay” Junkenstein weakly managed. He should have felt like he was over the moon with happiness, but instead all he wanted was to go to bed and have some sleep. Funny how your priorities shifted like that.

A yellow vapour trailed from the Witch’s hand as the blood slowly dried out and the arrow fell from the gaping hole it had created, the flesh slowly patching itself up in front of his very eyes.

“Crikey. Thanks, ma’am.”

“Of course, Doctor. No problem. However…” She motioned for him to stand, which he amazingly managed to do so without experiencing any nasty side effects. He looked down to see that even his mechanical leg had magically been repaired, too.

“…you still owe me that teeny little favour. Something that I want.”

Junkenstein narrowly resisted the urge to groan. This honestly couldn’t wait until the morning?

“Your monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. The next update will be the final chapter for this story, though I will be continuing with these characters later on as part of a series. Follow the series if you wish, or just wait and see (again, if you at all enjoyed). As always, leave ideas and comments - constructive feedback is always appreciated!


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